Blood and Ashes
by MatsuMama
Summary: Matsumoto & Ichimaru have their final showdown & at the end Rangiku can't help but look back at the beginning...can Hitsugaya save her from her past? GinRan, HitsuMatsu. Set post King's Key arc. See author's profile for SPOILERS & UPDATES. Enjoy!
1. Blood and Ash

_There are so many firsts with you._

I remember the first time we met. The first time you fed me. The first time I saw your smile.

_So many firsts_...

First sunset. First dawn. First kiss.

_The way your hair gleamed in the moonlight._

The first time I saw your eyes. I'm probably the only one who's seen them who was wasn't surprised by their color. Somehow, I'd always known what your eyes looked like.

I remember the first time you left me. And the first time you came back.

That is the _one_ thing I never learned to live without; that knowledge that one day, no matter what, you would come back. No matter how far you strayed or how long you vanished, my heart was always looking for you, waiting for you. And never in vain; sooner or later you always came back.

And now, after hundreds of years, another first.

At this moment I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you won't ever be coming back again. Not after this.

_This time, for both of us, there is no going back._

Though a battle rages around us and the fate of heaven and earth hangs in the balance, I sit quietly looking at you, with so much to say and no time to say any of it.

Heineko prowls around us, her growl keeping the outside world at bay. Not even Aizen could force his way through her right now; hell hath no fury like a Hellcat fully awoken, and while she has some choice opinions about you and what you have done, and been, to me over the years, she will protect me with all her incomprehensible power for her own reasons.

The ash and smoke swirl around us, separating us from the battlefield as we share our last quiet moments together.

_And here, at the end, I find myself going back to the beginning..._

* * *

"Gin...weird name..." 

You just laughed and held out your hand to me as I gobbled greedily at the food you had given me.

"Come on, fatty. Let's go somewhere fun."

I followed you. Always, I followed you.

When you took me into 67th district and found us that wretched little lean-to, I thought it was a castle. You even managed to procure some kind of bedding and I thought you were a magician for sure. Even then I was good at not seeing what was truly there; my eyes simply skipped over the blood under your fingernails, the specks on the blankets. What good did it do either of us to acknowledge how you had gotten them? It was warm, and it was softer than the dry and cracked riverbed in which you'd found me, and that was all that mattered.

Better yet, it was something I didn't have to endure alone. Even then, in our youth and innocence, we slept tangled together like puppies, sharing warmth and closeness if not intimacy. I would drool on your shoulder, and you would wrap thin but strong arms around my shoulders as we slept, offering protection that ultimately you would never deliver. To this day I dream of those nights, can still clearly see the outline of your profile, softened in repose, naked to my midnight scrutiny. Those dark hours were the only times I saw you unsmiling, the only times your mask slid and the man-child, full of doubt and fear and impossible desires, would emerge.

But the sun would always rise, and the mask slip effortlessly back into place. And as always, I would play along, happy at the very least that I was not alone. In my naivete, I thought that was enough.

Small, silent parts of us both knew that we weren't fooling each other. But you were fun, and I was lonely, and the vaudeville between us suited us both.

* * *

The first time you left me I thought my heart would stop beating. I screamed, I sobbed, I stared blankly for hours at the doorway, waiting to see your silhouette. I held my breath until my face turned blue, swearing I would not draw air until you reappeared; and then lay gasping, tears running down my face and nearly obscuring my view of the empty doorway. For days I refused to leave the lean-to, certain that if I wasn't there every single minute you would slip in while I was away and I would miss you. Even as a child, a barely-developed soul, I knew pain and awareness to a depth far beyond my years, and your betrayal was unbearable. For a week I feared you'd been killed. But my heart knew otherwise, and against my will I was drawn to roam, to search, to find you. I knew you were out there somewhere, that if at all possible you would return, and in my childish naivete I thought I could rescue you and bring you home. 

For weeks I roamed Rukongai looking for you. Returning always to our pathetic hovel, alone. It was no longer a castle; without you its dusty, barren interior was a dungeon, and misery my only companion. I would shiver throughout the night, trying to wrap my own skinny arms around myself, trying to pretend it was you. If I concentrated hard enough, I could almost convince myself that you were sitting in the shadows, watching me with your silly smile and letting me suffer. Maybe you were; I'll never know.

It wouldn't have been beyond you; I know that much.

No matter how far I roamed, whenever I returned it was with a quickness in my step. Reaching out with whatever energy remained to me, I'd find myself scanning for the slightest scent or hint of you. I would curse myself for leaving, convince myself that you had come and gone in my absence, and would fall asleep for a few miserable hours amidst agonized self-recrimination. And always the sun would rise, boring through the gaps in the walls to wake me, and despite my self-hatred I would venture out again.

I don't remember how long that went on, but I do know that at some point my misery helped me to forget my hunger. It was easy to stop eating; you were the one who found us food most of the time anyway. Before I met you, my smile and my dimples would occasionally secure a morsel here and there. With you gone, the smile was dimmer, the dimples wouldn't come, and food simply stopped materializing.

The day came when my strength failed me and I lay despondent on the floor unable, for once, to go looking for you.

It was then, in my black despair, when I was finally ready to give up on you, that you came back.

* * *

_I thought, when this moment came, that I would cry._

That all the years of loneliness and fear and the pain of being left behind would all rush back and overwhelm me. That looking in your eyes, all I would see is laughter at a young girl, alone and afraid, the same look as that first time you returned to me.

But for once your gaze does not mock, and the look in your eyes is one that, a long time ago, I would have given my life to see.

Only now I've grown too old, too strong, and your unspoken admittance is centuries too late.

So here I sit, dry-eyed, in the ash and blood, quietly thinking of all the things I cannot say to you.

I want it to last forever, this moment of peace between us. But he's coming, as I knew he would, his approach announced by the cool breeze that fans across my face. He's the only one, since you, that knows me well enough to come to me in my darkest hour. And now, with you leaving me forever, I must let him draw near.

_I have no choice, my love_, my eyes plead with you.

Your garnet eyes meet mine, and even to the end you cannot release me willingly.

I sit, in the mud and the ash and the spreading pool of your blood, and wait for my taicho.


	2. Reaching

With infinite care, Hitsugaya approached the hilltop. 

Swirling above him, rotating in a slow-motion maelstrom and obscuring the sun, was a shifting, seething fog of smoke and ash. Hitsugaya didn't need to be a genious or have Captain-level strength to know what, or _who_ rather, was causing the fog bank to sit there ominously, untouched by the moaning winds that tore across the decimated battlefield. Had it been a natural phenomenon it would have been little more work for him than a carefully formed thought and a cold breeze would have cleared it away, icy rain pelting at the thick mass until it settled to the ground. But he knew that to do so, to approach that hilltop with anything but a completely leashed and restrained reiatsu, would have only led to more fighting and bloodshed.

And he had had entirely enough of both for one day.

Reaching the edge of the grey roiling mass, Hitsugaya stopped and waited. At his approach, a searing howl assailed him and his already-spikey hair stood on end. Hyourinmarou shifted within him and it was all he could do the keep the dragon at bay with danger so close.

_Easy_, he told the wary beast inside him, _she won't hurt us. _Holding his breath, Hitsugaya waited patiently. Wide eyes tried to penetrate the sudden darkness; he knew that what lay in front of him was the manifestation of a heart full of passion, of life, and now of indescribable agony, and it must be approached carefully.

It wasn't easy, though; he had known that she was hurting for some time now and his teeth ached from grinding them in frustration at not being able to get here earlier. Hours and hours had already passed since he'd first felt her unleashing and deduced what was happening. Embroiled in the larger battle, all the could do was monitor the raging reiatsus as best he could without getting distracted enough to get himself killed, counting the minutes until he was free. Never had the heat of battle weighed so heavily on him, or fight-time dragged so slowly. Hyourinamrou had howled his frustration and together they had fought harder and with greater fury than ever before. Still, when he'd finally broken free, the blood-red sun hung low in the sky. The battle had settled, the fields were torn and bloody, and all around him shinigami were lying still in the eery silence.

And there it was; the one reiatsu he wanted to find still throbbed and pulsed in the back of his head, drawing him like a shot.

Emerging from shunpo he found he was not alone. Ringing the small hill and staring silently at the turbulence were several shinigami drawn by the spectacle. Some of the faces he knew, and he could only imagine that his own visage mirrored their tight concern. No one made a move, however, and after a moment's reflection Hitsugaya figured that their insitncts were probably correct. Friend or foe, the creature prowling the hill was looking for blood, and anyone approaching that hilltop was taking their life in their own hands.

And so, with a grim tightening of his lips and a firm clamping of his reiatsu, Histugaya made good use of his long years of enduring silent stares and started climbing.

* * *

Now he was standing near the top and as it turned out he didn't have to wait long; out of the swirling eddies a shape started to coalesce. He saw the eyes first; black as death, cold pinpoints of glittering silver in the very center. Large eyes, as big as his head, staring through him with deadly perception. He was being studied, evaluated, those silvery points tearing him apart and seeing deeply into his soul. He met that stare, let it see inside him, let it see the icy dragon slowly uncoiling. Cold eyes met fiery ones, and not without challenge; patience was one thing, suicide another. The hellcat watched him for a long time, not ingorant of the quiet threat of the dragon. Then the giant cat shifted minutely and seemed ever so slightly to settle back on its silvery haunches.

The fog swirled and shifted, hesitating for a moment before engulfing him. His eyes wanted to water and his breath caught as the smoke hit his lungs, threatening to choke him. A low growl reached him; on a level beyond hearing, he felt it resonate down to his bones. His skin wanted to crawl; he felt as though the fog was tasting him, feeling him out, and he felt violated enough to throw a terse glare at the grey beast hunched in front of him. Calmly receiving the pointed look, the hellcat let out a dry bark that sounded suspiciously close to a chuckle, and finally its sinous body settled slowly to the ground; not in complete submission but in acquiescence. Those saucer eyes never left him, though, making sure both Hitsugaya and Hyourinmarou knew that they were being watched, that one false move would be the death of them. As they passed, gun-metal claws sharper than titanium dug into the rocky ground as if it were soft moss. Hutsugaya understood; considering what had happened, it was only right that the mercurial tigress was on edge.

Slowly, he made his way through the billowing reiatsu to the crest of the hill.

Knowing what he would find there didn't make it any easier to see. She was sitting in a pool of blood, covered in the dirt of battle. Her hair, though unaffected by the winds that moved the fog, was tangled and lank. She was staring off into nothing, completely still; if she hadn't been sitting upright he would have sworn she was dead. For a moment his concern deepened, but his sharp eyes quickly saw that, though she had sustained several wounds, most of the blood was not hers. Stopping a short distance away from her, he tried to wait, to give her time, but that blank stare in her normally luminescent eyes sent a crawl down his spine and if he spoke sooner than he intended to at least his voice was, for once, gentle.

"Matsumoto."

He knew she heard him so he didn't repeat himself, but it was a long time before she turned, silently, and met his gaze. When she did, it was with a removed calm that was more frightening than whatever expression he might have been expecting. Her blue eyes had frozen into an icy sleet grey, and though she was clearly alive, those eyes reflected nothing but emptiness and death. When she spoke, it was with a docility that sent a chill down his spine.

"Taicho..."

Her voice was flat and there was a slight rise at the end of the word, as though she was distantly curious. As if completely unware of what might be causing him such obvious concern. Those empty eyes stared at him through a mask of drying blood; her hands calmly crossed in front of her, she sat with the bearing of a queen. His throat hurt to look at her and he had to swallow several times before he could speak further. When he did, his voice was taut with more emotions than he could name.

"It's time to go."

Her eyes slid away from his and a deep sadness stole over her bearing. She seemed to be listening to something deep within herself. After a long moment, out of the mist came the hellcat; enormous though it was it settled next to her in a comforting snuggle, its onyx and silver eyes still watching Hitsugaya with frightening keenness. Absently, she reached out to pet the giant beast, still listening carefuly to something only she could hear.

She seemed completely unaware of the body lying in front of her, the cause of all her pain. Unaware she might have seemed, but the hellcat certainly was not; every so often its glittering eyes would stare coldly at the remains, and when feline eyes met his aqua ones once again Hitsugaya could swear they were full of satisfaction.

Finally she turned and looked deeply into the hellion's eyes and it seemed that for the first time she really, truly saw something. A silent moment passed, and with a gurgling growl almost like a purr it licked her hand and slowly disintegrated. Swirling in a silent typhoon, the entire globe of mist spun faster and faster, compressing and fading until the zanpaktou lay silent and sealed in her lap.

Still she sat here, absently stroking her sword, and after a long moment Hitsugaya slowly approached her. Standing so close to her he finally got a good look at the state she was in; she was beat to all hell, bruises all over her, covered in blood. The injuries she'd sustained were deeper than he'd first thought and he was itching to flash her away to 4th division and the direct ministrations of Unohana. But she was staring away from him again and it set his teeth on edge, how..._not there_ she was.

He _hated_ the dead look in her eyes. All warmth and depth and playfulness, which previously and foolishly had annoyed him, was gone. Her eyes were the flat, bland color of ash and death hid in their shadows.

Something told him she needed to be reached, to be found, and shown the way back. Crouching down to look into her face (and when did he ever get a chance to crouch _down_ to look into her eyes?; given the circumstances it was impossible to relish), he carefully reached his hand out to her. He waited, but her eyes refused to focus on anything beyond her own private hell.

_Dammit_. He needed to get through to her or she would be lost forever. Desperate, he spoke again, softer this time.

"Matsumoto. Come with me. _Please_."

Maybe it was the raw, naked pleading in his voice that finally got a reaction out of her. Blandly, she looked at him, at the concern burning within his ice-green eyes. After an eternal moment something deep within her stirred; she looked at his proffered hand and finally, with a tiny sigh, reached out and took it.

Without another glance at the body laying before her, she turned and rose and let her captain lead her, child-like, away from the man she had killed.

Every eye was on them as they descended slowly down the hill. Hitsugaya was used to getting strange looks, had given himself headaches from gritting his teeth and bearing it. But this time, on this endless walk down and across the torn and burning battle fields, he met every single stare with hot fury until the offenders looked away.


	3. Checkmate

_You were back._

Standing in the doorway with the sun setting behind you, smiling as though you'd only been away a minute or two. It hadn't been a minute or two - it had been seven weeks, three days, thirteen hours. And half a million breaths, several thousand sobs, and more than one nervous breakdown. All those weeks of hopeful searching, of being willing to do anything, sell any part of my soul just to see you again...

_And there you were and all I felt was hatred._

I flew at you, claws out. You batted them away from your face as if I were a nuisome fly, but that was the only part of you that you bothered to protect. You just stood there calmly as I made angry fists and pummeled you with every hurt feeling and ounce of compounded misery with which you had left me. It had grown, you see; sometime in your absence every broken and shattered piece of me had gotten heavier, more solid. Stronger, somehow. Worse yet, I had a feeling that you saw it, and were pleased. As my assault started to raise bruises on your thin chest, your smile only grew wider.

And that made me even angrier, made me hit harder and harder until I was hurting myself just as much as I was you. Finally, exhausted, panting like a blown mount, I stopped and we stood slightly apart looking at each other; my eyes blazing with fury, yours squinted in amusement. Not a word had been spoken the entire time and I waited to see what you could possibly have to say for yourself.

Your silver hair had fallen across your forehead but I could still see the crinkles of amusement at the corners of your eyes. You watched me for a moment, the edges of your smile twitching just a little bit higher, and then impossibly, you yawned.

"Yare yare," your voice still had its sing-song lilt, and if you were hurting your tone didn't betray a hint of it. Stretching indulgently, you cocked your head and looking straight at me said, "I'm tired. I think I'll take a nap."

Without another word you brushed past me, crossed the room and flopped down on the bed, one arm thrown languidly over your head. By all appearances you were asleep the minute your head hit pillow, that damn smile still ghosting your face.

Leaving me staring at you in the growing gloom, utterly speechless.

I watched you for a long time, waiting for you to jump up and laugh and apologize, say you were only kidding and then fill me in on what in the name of all the gods you'd been doing this whole time. When the moon was high in the sky I finally realized that that wasn't going to happen. _Ever_.

It was so cruel and hateful I wanted to laugh. But what good would that do without you awake to hear it?

So I huffed off into the corner and curled up alone. It was a cold night, but I was damned if I let you have the satisfaction of sharing the bed. _You_ might act like nothing had happened, but I sure wouldn't. Wrapping my ratty clothes around me and tightening up into a little ball, I wedged myself deep into the corner that had the least amount of gaps in the wall slats and forced myself to go to sleep.

I slept poorly, of course, and had bad dreams. Fever-dreams, of you walking away, dreams of you gone, dreams that you had never returned. I dreamt that you were laughing at me while I screamed at you, tears streaming down my face. I dreamed that I found you dead in a ditch in a wretched corner of Rukongai, your body half-eaten by rats and crows.

I dreamt that you found me shivering in the dark, murmured softly into my ears that everything was okay now, and tucked me into bed.

That last dream was the worst of all, because I never knew if it was real or not. All I knew was that the next morning I woke up and I was lying in your arms, and somehow everything was okay again.

I never bothered to forgive you, which was good, because you never apologized.

That was your first return, but not the last. Somehow, that first night, you managed to defeat me completely. Every time you left, every time you came back, it always played out differently but I never hit you again. _I couldn't._ You had seen in my eyes what had caused my hate, and knew the power it gave you.

_And over the centuries, whether you were there or not, you never once let me forget that it was I that loved first._


	4. Alone in the Dark

They made it halfway across the across the battlefields before she collapsed. 

Hitsugaya was ready for it, catching her mid-slump before she could fall into the mud. In truth he was impressed, as well as faintly annoyed, that she had made it so far; he'd been rather desperate to flash-step her straight to Fourth Squad but had been unwilling to risk even the small burst of reiatsu required for shunpo around his traumatized fukutaicho. Sealed though she may be, Heineko was still on edge; her wariness slid over his skin and made the small hairs on the back of his neck want to stand up. Now, with Matsumoto unconscious, he hoped it would be safe to summon the necessary reiatsu for faster travel.

His first attempt to gather her up into his arms was something of a disaster. Strong though his arms might be, they were just short enough to thrust a very inappropriate part of her anatomy dangerously close to his face. He didn't need to hear Heineko's sharp rumble in the back of his teeth to quickly shift her, finally managing to get her more or less positioned across his shoulder.

_Dammit...why in the name of all the gods couldn't she be just a foot or two shorter_? Making sure he had a firm grip and sending as much soothing reiatsu toward his fukutaicho and her soul slayer as he could, he stepped...

He must have been more tired from battle than he realized, and the fact that Matsumoto was heavier than a sack of bricks didn't help. It took him half again as many flash-steps as he'd thought it would to get him to Sereimon Gate, where he couldn't help stopping for a moment to catch his breath. A shadow fell across them and Hitsugaya looked up in mingled relief and frustration. While he was glad to see that Jidanbou was alive and for the most part in one piece, he didn't need to be delayed by the giant's heartfelt concern. Forcing himself back to his feet, he tried to hide the trembling in his arms as he hoisted Matsumoto into a different position, freeing his shoulders.

"Hitsugaya-taicho," Jidanbou said in a rare show of formality, "What is the latest news from the front? I hear only that the battle has been decided and that victory is ours, but that many are wounded..." A quick assesment of the two shinigami and in another surprising gesture he cut straight to the point. "Please allow me to assist you to Unohana-taicho. I am sure she will want to personally attend to your wounds, as well as those of your vice-captian." Dropping his one enormous axe beside the shattered remains of the other one, he trumbled forward helpfully.

"Thank you, Jidanbou," Hitsugaya managed to get out, "but I'll take her there myself. She is _my_ responsibility." _And if I'd done my job better, she might not have ended up like this..._ He ground his teeth quietly in self-recrimination;Hyourinmarou stirred in silent reproach, but came forth at his unspoken command.

Jidanbou was slightly taken aback by the ferocity in the young captain's eyes. "But Hitsugaya-taicho, you are injured yourself. You cannot make it that far on your own..." The herculean shinigami fell silent as ice crawled up and across Hitsugaya's shoulders and arms, carefully avoiding the unconscious fukutaicho.

"I _won't_ be taking her on my own," Hitsugaya growled as the dragon-wings finished forming and with a quick look of apology to take the sting out of his tone, he let Hyourinamrou take them both to the sky.

* * *

The flight was worse than shunpo; Hitsugaya had to concentrate all of his flagging reiatsu just to keep Hyourinmarou manifested. When the Fourth squad rooftops finally loomed beneath him, it was with blurring vision that he barely made out the figure waiting for them below. Pulling a tight circle, he drifted closer to the rooftop and lost speed, touching down a split second before the ice-wings shattered. Altitude had been shed too quickly and the landing was rougher than he'd intended; with a grunt he dropped to one knee, Matsumoto lurching in his grip. Steady hands appeared in an instant to help him lower her to the ground, Isane regarding both of them with slightly frantic concern. Letting her glance flicker his way, a quick burst of reiatsu spoke of her efficient delving; Hitsugaya tried to supress his irritation at being scanned in such an inglorious manner. Reminding himself that this was wartime, and that his own health was not his greatest concern, he spoke thickly, "Matsumoto..."

"Requires immediate attention. As do you, Hitsugaya-taicho. You have pushed yourself too far." Isane spoke swiftly, this time seeking the permission she had just failed to acquire as she gathered the reiatsu for shunpo. "If you will permit me, Taicho?"

Hitsugaya wanted to brush off her offer but instead found himself sinking to a full sit; his muscles felt like melting water. Drawing breath and focusing vision were both giving him trouble as he struggled for the air to speak. Isane took his exhausted silence for acquiescence and lightly rested one hand on his shoulder, the other one on his prone vice-captain. Tightening her grip ever so slightly, she flashed them directly into a private room.

Hitsugaya grunted softly; he'd never had someone perform shunpo for him and he tried to shrug off the embarrassment. Glancing around the room, he threw a concerned glance at Isane, who was gently lowering Matsumoto onto one of the beds and placing her hand on her forehead. Another flash of reiatsu and he saw the healer's face tighten. Now that he had the breath to speak, he found it difficult to form words.

"Is she...?"

Isane glanced at him, realizing as she did so that she was failing to completely hide her concern. "I'll get Unohana-taicho," was all she said, and then she was gone.

Leaving him alone in the room with his fukutaicho.

For a long moment he stood looking at her, feeling uncomfortably helpless. She appeared to be resting almost peacefully. Almost. He'd seen her asleep on the couch in his captain's office enough times to know the difference, to see the tension in her body, the drawn look to her face. He could tell that she was neither resting _nor_ peaceful. With nothing else to do, he scrounged around until he found a bowl of water and a cloth. Taking both with him and wetting the cloth, he crossed the room and stood at Matsumoto's bedside. With more tenderness than he knew he had, he started dabbing the blood off her face.

_She'd be upset, to know how she looks right now_, he told himself. Something in his gut twisted and hurt at the thought of her coming to her senses and knowing that she was a mess. It was a silly, stupid thought, but he had nothing else to offer her, so he did what he could to straighten out her appearance. He spent a good deal of time on her face, then worked on her hands, hissing softly at the bruises that were starting to rise. He had just started on her tangled mane, was brushing a bloody lock away from her eyes, when Unohana entered the room.

A single look, longer than he'd have liked, and she saw far more than he was comfortable with. Jerking his arm away from his fukutaicho he quickly stepped away from Matsumoto's bedside, hoping the faint flush rising to his face would be taken as exhaustion and not mortification.

"Hitsugaya-taicho," Unohana said mildly, "Isane tells me that you are in dire need of attention. Please allow me to assess you."

For a split-second he hesitated, but quickly remembering his track-record in attempting to argue with the master healer, he gave in instead. Nodding curtly, he saw with surprise that she looked far more tired than he had ever seen her. Unohana guided him gently to a bed at the other side of the room as Isane drew a curtain between them. He could not help craning his head to watch but was firmly pressed forward.

"She is in good hands, Hitsugaya-taicho. If you truly wish to aid her, you can provide a good example and allow me to treat you." Unohana had an impressive way of making a docile-sounding suggestion ring in one's ears like an intractable demand, and throwing one last concerned look over his shoulder at the drawn curtain he allowed himself to be laid flat on his back on the other bed.

Schooling himself to stillness, he let Unohana administer his care, trying to watch out of the corner of his eye whenever she wasn't blocking his view. The swiftly-moving shadows and quiet whispers that came through the thin curtain belied the grave state of his fukutaicho, and the only thing that kept him on the bed was the painful knowledge that he could do nothing helpful. Unohana's slender hands wove graceful yet incomprehensible patterns over him, and he had to clench his jaw at the uncomfortable sensation of his body knitting itself together from the inside out.

An eternity seemed to pass, but finally Unohana stood still beside him. Her hands hovering a moment longer, she seemed to be satisfied by what her healing had accomplished when Isane poked her head around the curtain.

"Unohana-taicho..." The urgent look on Isane's face made his stomache twist into knots, a reaction that was not lost on his healer. Nodding towards her vice-captain, Unohana gave Hitsugaya a pointed look.

"You will mend, but I must insist on bedrest for the time being." He wanted to glare at her, but something in the tired lines of her normally placant face made him swallow his frustration. Not ignorant of his silent entreaty, after a moment Unohana spoke soothingly. "We will do everything for her that we can." Another look, this one harder for him to meet, and then she was gone, sweeping past the curtain to hover over her other patient.

He tried to keep his eyes open, but after a while and against all his determination they drifted shut...

* * *

With a jolt, Hitsugaya awoke to total darkness. Sitting upright in his bed, he supressed a wince at the multiple warning signs his body shot through him and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Forcing himself to stand, he lurched across the room, ripping aside the curtain in front of him...

And there she was. Laying silent and unmoving, except for the shallow breaths she drew. Something deep inside him unclenched at the sight of her alive. He watched her for a long time, making sure by her slight motion that her breathing was regular, if strained, before the weakness in his knees forced him to move. Lumbering across the room, he sank into the chair nearest her bedside and curled up, silently watching her.

He didn't know how much time passed but at some point Isane poked her head into the room. Concern heavy in her voice, she only got one word out before he cut her off.

"Hitsugaya-taicho..."

"I'm fine." He shrugged in annoyance and settled further into his chair. After a moment, Isane tried again but he pre-empted her.

"I'm not leaving her alone."

Not taking his eyes off Matsumoto, he waited a few moments until he knew he'd won. Isane silently bowed and backed out, sliding the door closed behind her. Hyourinmarou stirred deeply and regarded him with respectful and intense curiosity; into the darkness, Hitsugaya spoke with quiet resolve.

"_I won't leave her alone_."

Satisfied, the ice dragon inside him curled up and settled down to rest.

Hours later, somewhere in the pitch black, he heard Heineko purring.


	5. Making Light

_The second time you left me I cried, but I did not search for you; and when you came back six months later my eyes were dry. _

_I shed many tears for you over the centuries, but never again did I let you see them._

* * *

The twelfth time you left it was amidst my angry screaming. Fury twisting my face, I told you to leave and never come back, that I was tired of you and your stupid smirk and could do just fine without you thank you very much. You observed my vivid ranting and your smile was different; softer, almost contemplative. You turned, mid-tirade, and if you walked away a little slower than ever before I was far too angry to notice. 

Within hours I had abandoned our hovel, taking the few items that belonged to me. I left the bedding behind and without another look I walked as far away as I could. I found a little farm that needed some extra hands, a family that was welcoming and pleasant and didn't ask too many questions, and for a year and a half I grew things. I even managed to hardly think of you at all, and I didn't cry once. I was happy, I was fed, and I was free of you.

It wasn't until I saw you strolling across the fields, smiling that smile that I hadn't wanted to admit had been so desperately missed, that I realized how completely you owned me. I met you in middle of the field and you chuckled softly and pulled hay out of my hair.

"Come along, little milk-maid. I want to show you something." Without another word you turned and walked away, and I followed like you knew I would.

I never saw the farm or my little garden of growing things again.

* * *

That night, in a dank little cave, you banished shadows and left me speechless with the small, brilliant light you held balanced on your fingertips. Laughing warmly, you played with it, with me, for half the night, teasing me and flaunting your new-found skill. 

"Make it fly around my head again, Gin!"

"No. Make your own, dummy."

I snorted. "I can't. I don't know how."

"Baka - then _learn_."

"Teach me!"

Your smile deepened in that way it always did when you were trying to upset me. "No."

A pout, and a glare for good measure. "Well, _you_ didn't learn it on your own. Who taught you?"

You grinned at me for a silent moment and then, without warning, snapped the light out, leaving the image of your cruelly delighted visage burned into my vision. You wouldn't say another word after that, and while you slept peacefully I stayed up the rest of the night concentrating on my palm and trying to make my own light.

I looked like hell the next day, which only served to amuse you, but I _did_ learn something that night. I learned how to keep secrets from you.

I had no way to hide my tired eyes but I was pretty sure you didn't know that, just before dawn and without any help at all, I managed to make a few tiny sparks dance between my fingers for the briefest of moments.

_

* * *

_The next time you left me, I barely noticed at all. 

The growling had started in my head.


	6. Thaw

Isane's warning fresh in her mind, Nanao Ise slowly slid open the designated shoji screen. As cautioned, the cool wave of icy air that slid over her skin raised goosebumps, and with a tiny shiver she stepped into the room. Her breath puffed in a lazy mist in front of her as the temperature dropped precipitously. 

The reiatsu simmering in the room set her teeth on edge. A dozen incantations whispered softly in the back of her head at the ominous aura, but she firmly dismissed them as she slid the door shut behind her. Putting her demon-magic skills to good use, she reached out to examine the growling that she barely recognized as Heineko's. She couldn't see the manifestation fully, but her keen senses told her that gleaming silver eyes were watching her intently. After a moment the roiling sound drifted into silence, the intensity shifting into something approaching anticipation. She got the distinct impression that the tigress was hoping her presence would do some good.

Matsumoto was lying on her back, still, but it was the icy demeanor of Hitsugaya Toushirou that first drew her eyes. He was curled up in a chair next to her bed, ice limning the seat, and though he was snoring softly she could tell from his posture that his eyes had been glued to her bedside for as long as his strength had allowed. Nanao-chan clucked in soft disapproval at his stubbornness, at the ignorance of his own bodies' needs, and wondered for a moment if it was possible that there was a more intractable captain than her own.

Not daring to wake him up, she chose instead to walk over to Matsumoto's bed, feeling a lurch inside her at the state of her friend. The beautiful face was grey and drawn, though she appeared to be otherwise uninjured. Nanao had heard accounts of what had happened and, adding to them her own experience of Gin's effect on Matsumoto over the centuries, she lamented that it had come to this.

_Gin always did strive to destroy that which was most beautiful_... Anger boiled up inside her at the thought, so potent that she did not bother to consider if it was disrespectful to hate the dead._ So many have been lost or injured,_ she thought sadly. _Please don't leave us, mei-mei..._For once overcome with emotion, Nanao reached out and placed a warm hand on Matsumoto's shoulder.

"_What are you doing_?"

Sharp words erupted from behind her, far less frightening than the sudden seizure of captain-level reiatsu in close quarters. As tired as he'd looked, Nanao was surprised at how much power he'd gathered so quickly; keeping her body still, she turned her head slowly so that Hitsugaya-taicho could see her face.

Almost instantly, Hitsugaya's grip on his pommell eased as he acknowledged the Eighth squad fukutaicho. Nanao was one of Matsumoto's closest friends, he knew, and he quickly fought a flush from rising to his face at his overreaction. _We're in Fourth squad_, he chastised himself firmly. _There are no enemies here_. Hyourinmarou chuckled softly at him as he mumbled an embarrassed apology.

Nanao-chan gave him a slight smile that she hoped wasn't as pitying as she felt. "Not at all, Hitsugaya-taicho. It's perfectly logical that you would be on edge." Turning back to the still figure, she brushed a strawberry-blonde locke away from the pale face. "I just wanted to see how she was doing. So many were wounded...I heard reports that it was Ichimaru Gin who caused this?"

A soft rustle behind her, a barely perceptible drop in temperature, told Nanao that he was getting to his feet and joining her at the bedside. Nanao couldn't help but watch his face as he examined her closely. She recognized a tormented conscience when she saw one, and this one ran deeper than most.

"Yes," was all he said, and the twisting of his face as he said it made her own forehead wrinkle in concern.

"Were you there, Hitsugaya-taicho? Did you see what happ-"

"No," Histugaya cut her off, more sharply than he'd intended, and for the second time in as many minutes he scolded himself for being abrupt. With a tiny sigh he wrestled himself into softening his tone.

"No. I wasn't there." The sadness in his voice made something in Nanao-chan's chest tighten, but the look on his face kept her from inquiring further into the matter.

After an uncomfortable moment, Nanao quietly cleared her throat, drawing him out of his scathing introspection. "Hitsugaya-taicho, I regret to tell you that I am not just here to visit Matsumoto-fukutaicho. I have been charged by Yamamoto-sutaicho to summon all remaining captains to his audience chambers for a direct accounting of the battle."

"Already? The battle has barely settled..." He threw a frustrated glare at her and was surprised to see an awkwardness creep into her expression.

"The battle was decided four days ago, Hitsugaya-taicho. Most of the other captains have already reported in." Shocked aqua eyes met her apologetic ones. "Unohana-taicho tells me you were asleep for over a day, and have not left the room since..." Despite her best efforts, her glance slipped to Matsumoto and she couldn't quite keep the curiosity out of her expression. It wasn't like Hitsugaya Toushirou to be so flustered. When she looked back at him there were questions in her eyes that he didn't want to answer.

Hitsugaya broke her gaze, uncomfortably running a hand through his touseled white hair. "I didn't realize...I didn't know so much time had passed." He tried make himself clearer but as he said the words he knew they wouldn't make sense. "I had to stay here, in case..." He broke off, silence being preferable to inane babbling.

His discomfiture only deepened Nanao's curiosity. Glancing from Matsumoto's face to his, she tried to piece together what she was seeing. "She is expected to make a full recovery, according to Isane-fukutaicho. None of her wounds were mortal. I am sure the Fourth squad can take good care of her..." Trailing off, her concern shifted. "Are _you_ okay, Hitsugaya-taicho? Do you require more care...?"

"No!" Hitsugaya growled. "I'm fine, I just..." His hands clenched and unclenched, and when he raised his eyes to meet hers again she stilled at the naked concern and fear that lurked there. His voice tight, the words came out of him as if dragged.

"I can't leave her alone." His luminous eyes were shadowed with deep bags and deeper emotion, and they seemed to fairly beg her to understand. "I..she...she'll think I left her..." He finished lamely, clamping his mouth shut and refusing to explain himself any further.

All kinds of lights went off in her head, and the understanding that flooded Nanao's face brought a slight flush to Hitsugaya's cheeks. Her face softened and she spoke in a surprisingly soothing voice.

"Do not worry, Hitsugaya-taicho. I will stay with her." Her soft look full of determination, she settled in on the edge of the bed. "She won't be left alone, I promise."

For a long moment he hesitated; duty was calling him, and still he couldn't understand why his feet wouldn't move. At Hyourinmarou's gentle prodding, he finally walked over to the bedside table and paused there, his hand hovering a few inches from the surface. A moment later he spoke over his shoulder.

"In case she wakes up..." He threw one last agonized look at his fukutaicho, and turning abruptly on his heel without a backward glance he swept out of the room. Nanao watched him go, amazement tingling across her skin; it was only after his reiatsu had completely faded away that her gaze fell on the bedside table. Whatever conclusions she had been drawing were only further fueled by what she saw there.

Glisterning in the very center of the table, shattering the light from the open door into a million facets, and refusing to melt in a way only Hitsugaya Toushirou could manage, sat an exquisitely detailed rose made out of pure, crystalline ice.

* * *

"Hitsugaya Toushirou," Yamamoto-dono's gravelly voice met him the moment he entered the vast receiving chambers. Schooling the scowl off his face, Hitsugaya approached; he'd realized a split-second before that he was still in his battle attire from days ago and looked decidedly scruffy, but by then his reiatsu had been sensed and it was too late to do anything but present himself. Crossing to the very center of the room and executing a respectful bow with casual perfection, Hitsugaya reported to his superior. "Captain-Commander," He replied smoothly and waited patiently for instructions.

Most shinigami found Yamamoto Genruusai's silences to be exceedingly disconcerting, but Toushirou had never been one of them. He'd simply assumed that Yamamoto-dono, like himself, preferred to speak only when he knew exactly what to say, the wording carefully crafted to get to the heart of the matter in as efficient a manner as possible. Not one to make small talk or worry about couching anything in a socially acceptable manner, Hitsugaya presumed that Yamamoto-dono adhered to the same principles and never noticed the subtle arrogance in the comparison. Using the silence to gather himself, Hitsugaya carfeully reviewed, catalogued and analyzed his battle experiences in order to have the proper replies ready to the questions he knew were coming. When Yamamoto spoke, Histugaya felt calm and prepared.

"Unohana-taicho tells me that despite being pushed far beyond your limits, you have been properly treated and have recovered well." A tiny frown of puzzlement appeared on Hitsugaya's face. It wasn't a question, so he felt no need to reply.

One eye sliding open was the only warning Hitsugaya got. "And your fukutaicho - how does she fare?"

That was a question he had not been expecting and he fumbled badly for a moment. "I...she...Unohana-taicho expects her to make a full recovery." When Yamamoto-dono did not speak for a long moment, he awkwardly reached for more to say. "Your concern is greatly appreciated," he managed, realizing that it was indeed possible to find one of Yamamoto's silences uncomfortable.

With an enigmatic grunt, the eye slid shut and Yamamoto saved him from further embarrassment by getting down to the business at hand.

"Hitsugaya-taicho, please present an account of your battle experience."

Back on safe ground, Histugaya spoke smoothly. "When I reached the southern end of the 134th qaudrant, I found Aizen Souske and several Arrancar already engaged in battle..." Succinct and eloquent, Hitsugaya carefully reenacted the entire battle as it had played out before him. The long silence earlier had served him well and his answers were near-perfect; nothing was left out, nothing over-explained. When he was satisfied that he had conveyed all the necessary information, he fell silent once more.

"You can confirm, then, that one of our own was fighting _for_ Aizen Souske?"

Hitsugaya had prepared for this one question the most carefully and his answer was unwavering, the pain that flared at the memory firmly supressed. "Yes, sir. Hinamori Momo was clearly still affected by the traitor's influence. It is well known how she was manipulated and brainwashed by Aizen. Despite her actions, I can hardly believe she knew what she was doing." He ruthlessly banished the memory of Hinamori, face twisted in fury, hacking away at her former fellow-shinigami. He knew he couldn't fully protect Momo from her own actions, and prayed that this small testimony in her defense would procure some leniency.

_She didn't know what she was doing_, he told himself stolidly.

"You fought one-on-one with an Espada, correct?" Yamamoto's closed eyes were still watching him closely.

"Yes. Yammy, I believe was his name."

"And your accounting of the duel, it is complete?'

Hitsugaya was confused by the question; he was sure he'd described it accurately. "We fought. I won."

A sharp bark of a chuckle sprang out of Yamamoto and Hitsugaya was surprised to see amusement crinkling the corners of the ancient eyes.

"You have nothing more then to add?"

_We fought too long; he was stronger than I thought...I finished him as quickly as I could, Matsumoto_...

"No." Clamping his mouth shut, Hitsugaya shifted his gaze away and tried not to grind his teeth. A tiny muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Mmmm," Yamamoto rumbled, his thoughts impossible to discern.

Something in the sound prompted Hitsugaya to look back, and when he met Yamamoto-dono's look again both eyes were opened. A ripple of surprise ran through him as those ageless, almond eyes laid him bare and saw more deeply than he thought possible. His breath froze in his lungs, and he could almost feel his commander's presence within him, but before he could react Yamamoto's gaze released him and the eyes slid shut again.

"You and your subordinate have done well, and served well. As did so many others, who have not returned to us." And for the first time, Hitsugaya realized that an air of great weariness was hanging over the ancient. "Victory has indeed fallen into the right hands, but the cost," this time a definite sigh escaped the captain-commander, "may prove incalculable. Thank you for your thorough report, Tenth Captain."

Hitsugaya bowed at the dismissal and turned to leave, trying to keep his steps even and unhurried despite his unsettlement. At the door, Yamamoto's voice stopped him one last time.

"See to your squad, Hitsugaya Toushirou. It is your duty as a captain to make sure that _all_ of your surviving subordinates find their way home."

A long silence passed, and without turning Hitsugaya nodded and took his leave.

Much later he would remember that moment and marvel at the perception and wisdom of his captain-commander. How Yamamoto-dono knew that the only way to keep him from being torn between his duty to Matsumoto and his duty to his squad was to make them one and the same, he never quite figured out. But he never stopped being grateful for it.

* * *

Hitsugaya's first instinct was to flash directly back to Matsumoto but he ruthlessly suppressed it. Yamamoto-dono's generous permission or no, there was an entire squadron depending on him and he knew once he was back inside that sick-room he wouldn't be able to leave again. Gritting his teeth and swearing not to take a second longer than necessary, he hastened toward the Tenth squad compound instead. Giving his office just enough of a glance to see the mountain of paperwork already covering his desk, Hitsugaya slipped up the nearby stairs to his personal suite for a change of clothing. He quickly peeled off his worn attire and slid into a fresh kimono and haori, throwing some water on his face and making an even-less-successful-than-usual attempt at taming his wild mane. Less than half an hour passed before he was considerably more presentable, emerging from his rooms with one or two personal affects tucked under his arm.

What took longer was the report he knew was waiting for him, the one report that he couldn't leave to anyone else.

Settling into his chair and trying to ignore the empty desk next to his (or the unoccupied couch, for that matter), he fished around until he found the Status Report on all of his subordinates. Grimacing at the painfully long 'Killed in Action' column, he forced himself to focus on those seated officers that remained to him, making his selections as best he could without Matsumoto's singular insight. Choosing the most reliable officers possible, he made arrangements for the supervision of his squad, even managing to rope a few unlucky Seats into getting started on the towering mass of paperwork.

Calling them each into his office via hell butterflies, he gave them swift but clear instructions, his clipped words denying them a chance to ask after their fukutaicho despite their obvious concern. Part of him wished he had the ability to put them at ease, to tell them that Matsumoto would be fine and would return soon, to explain why it was necessary for him to be there for her. However, looking at the quiet alarm on their faces, at the sympathy they were trying so hard to hide, Hitsugaya knew that no explanation was needed. They were trusting him to bring her back to them, and together with Yamamoto-dono's blessing it was all the assurance he needed to assuage his guilt at being away. Satisfied at last that his absence would not result in a disorderly squad, he left his office and stepped outside, gathering himself for shunpo.

A final thought stopped him at the last second, and after a moment's hesitation he gave himself permssion to do something that Hitsugaya Toushirou would never in a million years do otherwise.

Breaking into Matsumoto's private room wasn't nearly as difficult as trying to figure out what she might need. A discouraging array of vials, tubes, brushes and contraptions he didn't even have a name for were smothering a large vanity in the far corner. The room itself was in complete chaos, and as gingerly as he stepped he still managed to stub his toe, knock over half a dozen empty sake bottles and break _something_ that had been hiding under a bright green kimono. Finally standing in front of the vanity, toe throbbing, he furrowed his brow in intense frustration; coming up against something he couldn't figure out had happened so rarely to Hitsugaya that he found himself at a total loss.

_Gods, she can drive me crazy even when unconscious_... Guiltily, he swept the thought aside and selected a few items at random, adding a brush and a small handmirror to the stack before quickly heading for the door and fervently wishing he'd never attempted this. At the last moment a flash of color caught his eye and he stooped to pick up the one thing in the messy room that looked even remotely familiar.

The long pink scarf made a very nice satchel for her sundries, and as he carefully tied the ends together he tried to ignore how soft it felt, or the way it smelled faintly of perfume and Matsumoto's hugs.

* * *

Tension he didn't know he'd been holding onto melted out of his shoulders as he crossed the threshold of the sick-room. He felt as if days had passed, although he knew it had been mere hours. Matsumoto was lying on her side, her back to the door, and though he couldn't see her face he was relieved to see that she had at least changed positions, showing some sign of life. A quick scan of the reiatsu in the room told him that little else had changed, except for Matsumoto's caregiver. A hulking figure in floral pink was occupying his chair, and before Hitsugaya had a chance to radiate surprise, the wide-brimmed hat was pushed back and tired brown eyes regarded him. "Oiy," Shuunsui's warm voice greeted him, and Hitsugaya could see the deep lines in the normally jovial face, heard the weight in the Eighth squad captain's voice. His lopsided grin was even more crooked than normal and he lifted an arm in greeting, waving it towards the room. "My lovely Nanao-chan had some other captains to hunt down, so it fell to me to keep our beautiful patient company."

Hitsugaya shifted uncomfortably; he was vaguely annoyed to find another captain watching over his fukutaicho, not to mention more than a bit embarassed to be caught carrying a pink bundle of things that smelled nice. Shunsui caught the slight motion and in his casually affable way smoothed things over.

"Far be it from me to refuse my Nanao-chan any favor she asks, especially when it results in spending time with such a valued drinking partner." Wryness slipped into Shunsui's expression, followed by some of the weary concern he was half-heartedly trying to hide. "Besides, I was just down the hall enjoying a vigil of my own, so it was a welcomed change of scenery."

Hitsugaya quickly put the pieces together. "Ukitake-taicho...is he...?"

A deep sigh. "Yare, the fool would not be kept from the battlefield despite the obvious reasons for him to stay behind. Sometimes I wonder if he truly is as wise as Yama-jii is always going on about..." The attempt at humor fell flat as a veiled look fell over the dark eyes. "Even with me at his back, there were too many Espada to protect him, and his Bankai took more out of him than he realized." For a long moment the two captains shared identical looks of agonized regret before Shunsui heaved another sigh and broke the gaze, turning once more to the bed and its wan occupant. "Unohana has not left his room for days, and still she is uncertain. For now, he is still with us..." One last look at Matsumoto and he rose to leave.

"The battle may be over, but there are those who are still fighting." And then he was sweeping past in a flurry of pink, leaving Hitsugaya staring ponderously at his fukutaicho, an indefinable ache spreading through his chest.

After a moment he moved to the bedside table, leaving Matsumoto's things where she would be able to see them when she woke up. He had to put them off to the corner to avoid a growing number of gifts that had started collecting on the table top. Looking them over, he felt a tiny smile cross his face as he devised each item and its probable owner. The bottle of sake sitting on a bed of rose petals made him both scowl and chuckle at the same time, a decidedly irritating sensation that somehow managed to ease the lump in his throat a bit. His scowl deepened when he realized that his own gift was missing; looking around the table, he touched the surface for good measure.

_Did it actually melt_...? He thought he'd put the right spell on it, but kidou had never been his strongest skill. _Still_...

A yawn forstalled his search and he begrudgingly had to admit to himself that he was more tired than he'd realized. Stubborn he may be, but if only a few hours on his feet could tire him out so much then it was clear more recovery time was called for. Crossing the room and pulling the curtain open along the way so that Matsumoto would be able to see him if she awoke, he carefully removed his captain's haori and placed it folded on his bedside table along with his other personal items. Climbing under the covers and settling himself in, he turned to check on her one last time. As he did so, a bright glint caught his eye and he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

Wrapped carefully in a tangle of blankets, Matsumoto curled up tightly around it, was the ice rose.

A dozen emotions flooded him, relief being promiment, the others he didn't dare to define. He had to burn the image into his memory before he could move again. Hyourinmarou rippled inside him, sharing his euphoria, as Hitsugaya surged with assurance.

_She's going to come back._

_Yes_. Hyourinmarou's garnet eyes were dancing as he settled in contentment.

Putting his head to pillow, his mouth curled up into as much of a smile as he ever managed, Hitsugaya allowed himself his first deep sleep in days.


	7. Requiem

I wasn't asleep. Not really. It just hurt too much to open my eyes, and with you still alive inside of me it was impossible to venture out just yet. I never did learn how to leave _you_, that was always your prerogative. I wasn't pretending, nor was I trying to hurt anyone or cause any worry...

_I just didn't know how to step into a world without you in it_.

Unohana understood. That first night, after Isane had done her remarkable job of healing my body, Unohana-taicho had spent a few moments at my bedside, examining me carefully. She truly is a wonder, because she did not stay long; even she knows her immense talents cannot heal a broken heart. Before leaving she laid a hand on my arm, and with her voice pitched low for my ears only, she had ministered the only care she could give.

"Take your time saying goodbye, Rangiku-san," she'd said, the soft smell of lavender wafting across my face. "But do not forget to return._ For you, there are still so many in this world to love..."_

* * *

"_What about love?" I'd asked you one day, in one of my sillier, girly moments. We were lying in the grass by a riverbed, watching the low sun set the water on fire. _

_Your eternal smile had twisted into a decidedly derisive sneer. "Love is for fools."_

_"Yes," I'd sighed dreamily. "But what a delicious way to be foolish..."_

* * *

I did see the presents.

In a rare moment of solitude, while Nanao-kun and Shunsui-taicho were whispering in the hallway just outside the door, I managed to peek an eye open. Word must have gotten around that my dear sweet taicho was no longer setting the temperature uncomfortably low, and visitors seemed to positively flood in. Which, of course, drove Nanao-kun to distraction; while she did promise not to leave me alone, she hadn't been expecting such an influx. Truth be told, neither had I.

Yachiru had bounced on the bed until Nanao-kun made her stop, then left a crayon drawing of Kenpachi-taicho beheading a dozen Arrancar - her idea of a cheerful scene. The bright peacock feather was from Yumichika, and I pretended not to know that it was only his second prettiest. Ikkaku left me something, that smelled like an apple-canteloupe-sausage pie, with a big bite taken out of it. The bag of candy with a little note saying "Feel free to share!" was dropped off by Hanatoro, but I suspected that Ukitake-taicho was behind it. Shunsui's bottle of sake was sitting next to Kira's contribution, a tiny silver sake cup engraved with apple blossoms. Renji's visit was the shortest; he made a puffed-up speech about getting better soon, his slightly-too loud voice betraying how worried he really was, and then left me a lion plushy with bright red spiky hair.

_And my rose. My beautiful ice rose._

I couldn't help opening my eyes a tiny bit wider to take in its beauty, watching the light glittering off its perfect details. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen something so beautiful. Unable to take my eyes off it, a strangely soft, wonderous feeling started to spread through me. Tiny, fractured rainbows danced playfully in front of my eyes, around my head...

_"Make it fly around my head again, Gin..."_

_"No. Make your own..."_

Suddenly I had to get out of that room; the fragments of light shimmering off the frozen gem were melting parts of me I wasn't ready to have softened yet. The bottle of sake was just too easy an excuse, and making sure I wouldn't be noticed by the whispering duo right outside my door, I grabbed it and the little silver cup and made a short hop to the roof. It was close enough that my reiatsu would still be easily felt and I was desperate for just a few moments outside. I wanted to see sky, breathe for a moment.

And I needed to find a way to get numb again before I fell apart.

The stars were burning bright as I alighted on the tiles and promptly plunked down - four days in bed had made my legs suprisingly rubbery. Popping the cork, I poured myself a large sip, yearning for the familiar burn at the back of my throat. But for some reason, thinking about all my gifts and the dear friends who'd brought them, I felt oddly guilty and couldn't raise brim to lips. By the time the moon had reached zenith, its silver rays illuminated the still surface of untouched liquid in my cup.

_For me, there are still so many to love...even that, you've managed to taint..._

* * *

"_Rangiku."_

"Mmm?" I didn't even bother to turn. I hadn't seen you in a very long time, but that had become routine; as we'd grown up over the decades, our bodies changing and maturing, your absences had grown longer and longer. I'd stopped keeping track of the months, sometimes years, between your visits, had slowly learned to let a lot of the things that you did slide over me. Even the unusually velvet tone in your voice was deftly ignored. I'd gotten so used to your coming and going, to all your silly and cruel little games, that it barely affected me anymore.

Maybe that's the reason you did what you did.

_I've sometimes wondered if it was the only reason._

You swept up behind me and pulled me to my feet, whipping me around to face you. I was surprised to see that your eyes were wide open, and you were looking at me in a way that stilled my tongue. For once you weren't smiling even a little bit, and the look on your face was one I'd never seen before, dark and full of mystery. Holding me close, I started to realize things I'd never noticed - the strength in your hands, the heat of your skin, how your shoulders had broadened and your frame had filled out with lean, ropy muscle. Absently, I marked how close we were in height, your rabbit-eyes on a level with my own; even your hair had grown, falling boyishly across your forehead.

We looked at each other for a long time without speaking, and as the silence dragged on something in your gaze made my breath start to come quicker. When you reached up to brush a lock of hair off my forehead, I couldn't keep the shock out of my eyes. Tucking the strand back, your hand drifted across my face, lightly tracing my cheekbone, slowly drifting down along the side of my neck. Your touch left a trail of fire in its wake; fear and something else surged through my stomach.

"Gin, what...?"

Your lips on mine tasted sweeter than all the lies you'd ever told me put together, and were just as intoxicating. I could hardly breathe, my toes curling up in my sandals; all the time in the universe seemed to freeze solid. After a while I realized that I was trembling and your arms were the only thing keeping me on my feet. When your lips parted and your tongue lightly brushed mine, I forgot to breathe altogether. My eyes flew open, meeting your gaze from mere inches away; few have seen your eyes, and I'd like to think no one else has ever seen them so close. Our eyelashes brushed together as my knees finally gave out and you picked me up in your arms. Lifting me like I weighed nothing at all, you crossed the room and placed me gently on the pallet, stretching out next to me. Suddenly the thought of sharing a bed with you sent a thrill of something indefinable through me.

"Gin..."

"_Shhhh,"_ your sultry whisper set something in my chest fluttering. Your body pressed close to mine, I felt your hot breath on my neck, your lips feather-light on my ear. "_I want to show you something_..."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

We spent a month tangled together in breathless exhilaration, held in thrall by the magic of each other. We never ran out of new discoveries, not once. There wasn't an inch of me you didn't claim, your fingertips branding me with feather-light touches and frantic clutches. I memorized every part of you, marvelled at how many smiles your face was truly capable of. The only time we parted was to get food, and then as soon as you returned we'd fervently throw ourselves into making up for lost time, the morsels remaining untouched for hours. Food, sleep, time - they meant nothing to us, only drinking in as much of each other as we possibly could.

I think I knew, even then, that you were trying to say goodbye.

From the moment your lips touched mine, we both knew we could never go back. Nor could we keep what we'd found; that would have taken you surrendering some small piece of yourself to me, and if there was one thing you never could give up, it was power.

So when I woke up in an empty bed that smelled of you, I knew not to wait for you to come back, that this time I would have to find my own life, my own reason to go on. In depriving me of that which I loved most, you forced me to start to live for myself.

I guess, one of these days, I'll have to thank you for that.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

_That was the second-to-last time I saw you in Rukongai. The last time I saw you the snow was falling, and we both know that it was too painful to talk about._

_When next I saw you it was a decade later, in Sereitei. You were wearing a Seat's insignia, and I was in novice whites. _

_And you ignored me completely._

* * *

"Yare yare, what is this? A beautiful woman trying to drink alone? I can think of few greater crimes in all the universe." The warm affection in Shunsui-taicho's voice drove me back to the present. I jumped, an embarrassed flush creeping into my face, although I couldn't say why; it's not like I was really doing anything wrong, and the gods knew that Shunsui-kun has seen me in far more compromising positions than this before. By all appearances he'd been laying there a while, but he might have just joined me; Kyouraku Shunsui had long ago mastered the art of settling into instant langour whenever it suited him, which was most of the time and in almost every situation. Splayed out in brightly colored haori, hands behind his head, he was staring into the night sky and acting like it was nothing at all of note for a supposedly-comotose shinigami to be sitting on the roof, lost in private reverie.

Feeling awkwardly abashed, I found myself struggling to come up with some kind of comprehensible explanation. Dropping my eyes and fighting my flush, my gaze fell on the sake bottle and my little cup; next to it sat another, made out of jade and etched with risque images. It also was full to the brim. And untouched.

Something in me relaxed. I should have known that with Shunsui-kun, explanations were rarely necessary.

We sat there for a while, companionably silent. When he finally reached for his cup, I was ready. Joining me in toast, he said simply, "In memoriam."

My eyes burned along with my throat, but still the tears would not come. We drank, just the one cupful; once we were done I reached over and corked the bottle. We both knew there would be no more drinking tonight. Fingering the note, I let the tiny printed words spread through me along with the warm sake.

_To Impossible Loves_

_and the Possibilities They Leave Behind_

Finally, I spoke. Low, shy.

"I'm sorry to worry everyone."

A small sigh, he spoke reassuringly. "Do not worry, pretty-one. No one blames you for anything."

"But my taicho is so concerned..."

"He will wait." The firmness in his voice stilled me. After a moment, I realized that he was right; Hitsugaya-taicho would wait, for as long as it took for me to get better. He would frown incessantly, pester Unohana, grumble in irritation and turn my room into a meat-locker...and never give up on me until I came back. _Just like with_...

The roof tried to drop out from under me, a wave of nausea hitting close on its heels. _Hinamori,_ the thought twisted painfully in my chest. _For him to go through all that again, and on my account_...

"I have to go back." I croaked into the night air.

"Yes," Shunsui agreed, his eyes peering at me keenly. "Eventually."

The word made me pause, and after a furtive glance I found myself squirming a little under his perspicacious gaze; those warm brown eyes could be irritatingly perceptive when they wanted to be. Dropping my eyes, I wrestled with myriad feelings, memories I couldn't banish. _Why can't you let me go_? I silently implored you. _Even in death, you must torture me? Torture those who care about me...?_ Heineko stirred, poised to growl, and I swear I could almost hear you laughing at me from somewhere in the darkness.

My torment was not lost on my drinking companion. His soothing voice spead like oil over me, loosening the tightness in my chest just a little. "Take your time, pet. You must let this heal, or it will only poison you; and that won't do you or anyone else any good at all." His deep eyes lost themselves in shadow and for the first time I noticed the grey pallor under his tanned skin. "I, for one have, had my fill of perfectly intelligent people pushing themselves and their health too far for the sake of others."

I didn't know what to say to that, didn't even have the chance to think of something. At that moment a tingle started in the back of my head, and I felt Heineko's purr ripple across my skin.

"Oiy, it seems our little captain is in a hurry to return. It would not do to make him wonder where you are." Shunsui-kun labored to his feet as if it were some great chore. Giving me one of his prize-winning smiles, he reached out a hand and helped me up. "Go, _mei-mei_. I will cover for you - this little chat can stay between us."

* * *

I got there just moments before my taicho. I felt slightly panicked, couldn't ignore the dread that was clenching my stomach at the thought of being found awake, of seeing pity and concern and questions in deep, sea-green eyes. I felt sick at the thought of having him look at me the way he used to look at Hinamori, putting that shadow back in his eyes: cautious, waiting to see if she would break down again. Preparing himself for when she unravelled and slid back into her black depression and delusion, leaving him alone once more...

Shunsui was right. I wasn't ready just yet. I couldn't come back until I knew I could be strong again.

_Until I was free of you_.

But neither was I ready to continue worrying my captain. Carefully picking up the ice rose and settling it on the blankets, I lay down, curling up tightly and wrapping around myself the illuson that I was still unconscious.

Hours later, when I was sure he was sleeping deeply, I risked a look. The rare smile on his reposed face told me all I needed to know; he'd seen, and understood. Curling up tighter, a ghost of a smile on my own face, I was finally able to let a tiny piece of me melt.


	8. Alone Together

"There's got to be _something_ you can do." Frustration was paramount in Hitsugaya's voice as he scrubbed a hand through his spikey, white coiffure. "Isn't there some..._woman thing_ you have, that will snap her out it?"

Unohana Retsu had spent centuries training her expression of benevolent serenity to near-perfection, but when hard-pressed she would admit that there were instances that had tried even her great calm. For example, there was the unforgettable time when she found two not-to-be-named captains passed out on top of each other in a compromising state of undress. She had lost count of the bizarre situations that had fallen into her lap with regards to varying inebriated members of different squads (the Eleventh easily being the most inventive and frequent). Her greatest challenge so far had involved a rare visit from Yamamoto-sutaicho, the details of which she would take to her grave; _that_ one had resulted in a total loss of composure the instant he left the room, tears streaming down her face as she mirthfully gasped for breath behind closed shoji screens.

But this particular moment was rapidly climbing the ranks. The corners of her mouth actually twitched upwards a hair before she got herself under control. She suddenly understood Matsumoto's frequent desire to torment and subsequently hug her young captain; _gods_ if a frustrated, grumpy Hitsugaya Toushirou wasn't just about the cutest thing ever. He gave fluffy kittens and bunny slippers a run for their money. She firmly put the aborted grin in its place, but she could tell that her eyes were still radiating amusement. _Ah well_, she figured, _one can't win every battle_...

"All she needs is time, Hitsugaya-taicho. I have examined her myself, and you can rest assured that she is in no danger."

"Bah," Hitsugaya sighed in disgust, abandoning the half-hearted attempt to get his hair to lie flat. Crossing his arms angrily and deepening his scowl, he turned his head to frown out the large window dominating one entire wall of Unohana's office. She had carefully designed it to overlook her personal serenity garden, the slowly falling apple-blossoms particularly soothing in the warm afternoon sun, but the effect was clearly lost on him.

"She's _in_ there. I _know_ she is." A small muscle in his jaw twitched. "She just won't come _out_." His eyes tightened, something painful to look at stealing into his expression. "And damn all the gods, I don't know what to _do_..."

He looked so forlorn that Unohana had to supress the urge to hug him herself. "It's my understanding that she has made some progress..."

"Tch," Exhaling sharply, Hitsugaya nodded grimly. "She changes positions, she moves her stuff around when no one's looking. Once, when I was out in the hallway, she guzzled half her sake! I only know because I smelled it on her breath when I came back and the bottle seemes lighter now..." Now the corners of _his_ mouth twitched, almost as if he was begrudgingly impressed with the woman's endless ability to confound him. "But she never opens her eyes, and she won't _talk_ to anyone."

"She has been through a great ordeal..."

"She won't talk to _me_!" He whipped his head around to glare at her, hurt and confusion glimmering in his blue-green eyes. Ferocity vibrated his frame and the temperature suddenly took a noticable dip. "_ME_. And I'm her...I'm..." A strangely mottled expression spread across his face, followed by a faint blush. With a painful gulp, he swallowed whatever he'd been about to say, finishing firmly if somewhat abashedly.

"I'm her captain." His flush deepened a hair but the challenge in his eyes held as steady as his gaze.

Unohana said nothing, quietly giving him time to pull himself back together and watching him slowly gather his roiling feelings back under control, force the slight tremble in his body to stillness. When he spoke a moment later, it was with his usual icy demeanor restored and his tone brooked no more nonsense.

"Unohana - _what's wrong with_ _her_?"

Unohana never discussed the details of her patients' conditions; it was one thing she was very firm on, a courtesy she granted to all those who fell under her care regardless of status or rank. But in this case it was the patients' superior officer asking, and Hitsugaya Toushirou besides. Nothing less than the truth would do. With a sigh at the inevitable, she spoke softly.

"She is in mourning."

"_Mourning_?" Bafflement stole into his eyes as her words sank in. "For what? A _traitor_?"

"Ichimaru Gin was more to her than that." Her tone was gentle, but she let a steely edge communicate that she would reveal no more; truth was one thing, but Matsumoto was entitled to her secrets.

"_Ichimaru_...?" He looked completely dumbfounded; staring at her in disbelief. His gaze turned inward, an intense look crossing his face as he wracked his brain. "But he never...I never saw _either_ of them acknowledge any kind of association..."

* * *

Hitsugaya fell silent as a memory slammed into him...

_Shinsou hovered mere inches from his face as he struggled to keep the razor-sharp blade away from him. Gin's snake-like voice echoed in his ears, its mocking tone freezing the air in his lungs:_

_"If you dodge it...she will die..."_

_"Hina- !!" No time to react, but he didn't have to; there was a sudden shunpo behind him, a blazing light, an intense flash of reiatsu. And a subliminal growl that stood his hair on end._

_"I'm really sorry, Hitsugaya-taicho; I was going to go back as you instructed, but I felt the reiatsu of Hyourinmarou, so I turned around."_

_His eyes tracked Shinsou down its incredibly long reach to where it had been stopped in its tracks, blade-tip causing spider-web cracks to appear and spread in Heineko's sealed blade. Matsumoto was struggling with the effort of holding her stance, eyes blazing, the only thing standing between Gin's murderous treachery and a prone Hinamori._

_"Please withdraw your sword, Ichimaru-taicho," Matsumoto grunted, sweat starting to appear on her brow. Steely though her resolve was, an edge of fear flickered across her expressive face. "If you do not withdraw,_ I _will be your opponent from here on."_

_Gin regarded her somblerly, lost for a moment in a rare frown. Slowly he regained his fox-like grin and with an enigmatic chuckle...withdrew his sword._

Hitsugaya had never given that moment another thought, certainly had not taken away the idea that there was any kind of regard between them. But now, thinking back on Ichimaru's strange expression, the look in Matsumoto's eyes as she stared him down...

His breath caught in his throat, and for once Histugaya felt cold.

_She...and him...that monster...?_

He felt sick to his stomach. And angry. And stupid and hurt and a dozen other things he couldn't name. Hyourinmarou stirred deep within him, reacting to his distress, garnet eyes radiating hotly. _Why didn't she ever tell me...why didn't I see...?_ He stood there clenching and unclenching his hands, completely unaware of how low the temperature was dropping. Completely forgetting that Unohana was standing only a few feet away, watching him calmly. Which was all for the better; if he'd seen the compassion in her eyes he probably would have snapped completely and frozen half of Fourth squad.

"Un-n-ohana...t-t-t-taicho?" A tinny little voice squeaked in from the open doorway. Shivering from more than cold, Hanatoro timidly peeked his head into the room, his eyes saucer-wide. "I'm s-s-sorry f-for inter-r-rupting, b-b-b-but it's started..."

"Thank you, Hanatoro," Unohana cut him off, uncharacteristically sharp. "Please go about attending to your duties at once. There is no need to disturb Hitsugaya-taicho any further." With one last look at Hitsugaya, she seemed almost about to say something but thought the better of it, sweeping silently towards the door and leaving him alone with his ruminations.

He barely registered the exchange, or how long he stood there before he got himself under control. Razing himself for losing his composure like that, Hitsugaya peered around Unohana's empty office and turned abruptly to leave, trudging back towards Matsumoto's room lost in thought. He couldn't get that look on her face out of his mind as another memory started jostling for attention...

_"I must have been asleep a long time..."_

_"Never mind that." He'd had to turn away, not really knowing why. He'd generally found his fukutaicho to be a burden on his nerves and his patience, when she wasn't outright exasperating. But the look in her eyes had proved hard to meet, and he'd felt an oddly disconcerting sweep of emotions run through him, mingling with his own confliction over what had happened earlier that day. In any case, he'd found himself being unusually empathetic._

_"Seeing your colleague and a junior fight like that...it puts you in a tough spot, doesn't it?" He'd meant to be understanding, and at the time hadn't understood the flush of mortification that had spread across her cheeks._

_"My col-league...?" Her eyes had been pinned to the floor; come to think of it, he'd never seen her so vulnerable. She was radiating some kind of intense emotion, and he'd just assumed she was upset about Kira. After all, that's who_ he'd _been referring to. But now, looking back, her next words made so much more sense._

_"Captain..." Her normally lilting voice was pitched low, worry and something else shimmering in its raw tone as she faltered to put words together. "Do you really...think that...Captain Ichimaru Gin...?"_

Stupid. So stupid. He could have, _should_ have seen it before now. If possible, his guilt at not being there to help her during her fight with Gin deepened, and his fury and loathing for Ichimaru jumped up another order of magnitude; gods, was there anyone he cared about that _hadn't_ been hurt by that maniac?

A sudden motion around a distant corner caught his eye and brought him back to himself. Recognizing wide, fearful eyes, Hitsugaya sighed in frustration; he figured he'd better catch up to Hanatoro and apologize for scaring him half to death in Unohana's office earlier. The shape quickly disappeared and Histugaya ground his teeth; _not_ in the mood for a foot-chase, he gathered reiatsu.

The diminunative healer _must_ have been out of sorts, because he didn't notice Hitsugaya flash-stepping in right behind him until he spoke.

"Hanatoro, I..."

"Gyaaahh!" Hanatoro let out an unearthly wail and hit the ground with impressive speed, cowering on his knees and throwing his arms protectively over his head.

_What a bother_, thought Hitsugaya, a little frightened himself by the unexpected screech and rapidly descending into a worse mood than ever. He was quickly starting to regret this, but before he could reassure Hanatoro and start over, the kid began babbling nonsense.

"I'm s-s-sorry, Hitsugaya-taicho! I'm-m-m so sorry! I know, I should never have int-t-truded like that, and th-th-they told me not t-t-to let you find out...b-b-but..."

"Find out _what_?" Hitsugaya growled, no longer in the mood to apologize and his curiosity peaked. Hanatoro's only response was to tremble even more violently and continue to whimper like a fool. A vein started throbbing in the young captain's temple as he crossed his arms, his face a thundercloud. "Hanatoro, what was to be kept from me?" Pieces started falling together. "Where was Unohana called away to, and what in the name of the gods does, 'it's started' mean? _What's_ started?"

It was several more minutes before he finally issued a direct command and got Hanatoro to put a sentence together. When he did, the world dropped out from under Hitsugaya for the second time in the same afternoon.

* * *

Unohana _loved_ being a healer. Nothing made her more happy, more fulfilled than piecing back together the shattered remains of a living being, soul or otherwise; feeling the strength and life surge back into them despite whatever life-threatening condition had been assailing them. Even though, technically, she and everyone around her were 'dead' in a sense, she never ceased to marvel at the will to live that emanated from every spirit being she had ever laid hands on. It was, in her mind, the most demanding and most rewarding job in all of Sereitei.

And yet...this was the one part of being a healer, indeed the greatest healer in Sereitei, that she absolutely hated.

It was an understandable necessity that she be present at all executions. After all, someone had to officially confirm a court-mandated death, and not only did her position make it her duty but she was never able to ask it of anyone else. And in truth, executions were extremely rare; the powers that be generally preferred exile over the ending of a life, even for the most dire of crimes. In this case, however, there was a great deal of evidence to show that exhibiting leniency would prove futile. After all, the accused had already undergone the best healing services the Fourth squad could offer, and much patience and care had been given in the attempt to rehabilitate her shattered mind. Yet, despite all that, at the first opportunity she had chosen to follow her beloved leader regardless of the evidence of his treachery, and all efforts ultimately had gone to waste. Indeed, mercy shown had only lead to the deaths of several shinigami at the hands of the accused, and despite the compassionate streak in her even Unohana could understand the sentence that had been laid down.

"Ahh, what a pain." Kenpachi grumbled next to her. "I still say they should be allowed to fight back - at least that would be entertaining."

"Ken-chan, this is boooring. Let's go play with Shiny-Head!" Yachiru chattered, tugging on Kenpachi's sleeve and bouncing up and down, landing unceremoniously on Kuchiki Byakuya's foot.

With a soft grunt, Byakuya planted a hand on her pink little head, effectively halting her exuberant hopping about. "It is required that a majority of captains be present at the execution of a Seat." Without changing his expression in the slightest, he somehow managed to convey disdain. "Kenpachi-taicho must remain in order to meet the requirements set by law." He seemed to regret what he was saying, and Unohana suspected that regret was mingled with the wish that he'd brought a tasty treat to subdue the hyperactive Eleventh squad fukitaicho.

Unohana sighed in sadness over the truth of the statement. Including the traitors, and taking into account the one captain too sick to leave Fourth Squad and the taicho who refused to leave his side, as well as the understandable exlusion to these proceedings, too many officers were unavailable. It was almost inconceivable that five captains made a majority, but that was the inumaginable consequence of betrayal and wartime.

Kenpachi let out a long-suffering sigh as Yachiru drooped herself despondently over his shoulder. "This IS boring. They should just get on with it..."

"Are preparations complete, Mayuri-taicho?" Yamamoto-sutaicho's iron voice cut through the room and demanded silence.

"Yes, captain-commander," replied Mayuri, fiddling a few gadgets on the sprawling machine laid out ominously before him. "Despite the fact that this was not part of my device's original design, I can assure you that this machine will effectively sever the soul chain of the specimin." His leery expression turned downright sinister. "Of course, I cannot be positive, as this particular invention was created with other purposes in mind, but at the very least it will completely disintigrate the soul form and conclusively end the life." His head tilted, almost in amusement. "Also leaving no body for burial. An adventageous side-benefit."

Unohana suppressed a shiver of revulsion; the man actually looked pleased with himself. Only Mayuri Kurotsuchi would see such a thing as an advantage.

"What was it designed to do in the first place? Make people disappear?" Yachiru piped in; she seemed decidedly eager to watch a person disintegrate. Unohana wished she could have shushed her; she, for one, _really_ didn't want to know.

Mayuri just grinned at the little pixie and said nothing. Unohana's skin prickled.

"Very well, bring out the condemned."

Sui Fon nodded at Yamamoto-dono's command, and her special ops team disappearing in the blink of an eye. After a long, uncomfortable moment of silence, they returned with a wide-eyed and confused-looking Hinamori. They hooked her up, trembling, to the sprawling machine, binding her with thick bands of glowing kido. Her frantic panting rang loud in the silent chamber; after an eternal moment, Yamamoto's voice sliced through the building tension.

"Hinamori Momo. You have been convicted of aiding the traitor, Aizen Souske, in his nefarous plans to destroy Sereitei and invade Heaven itself. Furthermore, you have been seen attacking, injuring and killing shinigami. Such acts, as verified by more than one captain's testimony, are unforgivable. You have once already received reprise, healing and understanding, and have thrown it right back in the face of the highest ruling minds of Sereitei. Due to this, you have been convicted to execution, not subject to trial or appeal. This decision is utterly irrevocable." A long moment passed, ancient eyes boring into her. "Does the condemned have any final words?"

"I...I don't...understand...?" Wide, watery eyes looked pleadingly into every captain present, and despite herself Unohana's stomach clenched. "Why are you all so _mad_ at me? I was just...doing as my taicho wished... I was following my _taicho_..." Tears streamed down her face as Hinamori gazed imploringly around the room. "Please, _why_...?" A rough sob escaped her, and she thrashed in her bonds.

"Very well," Yamamoto spoke imperiously. "Proceed."

Unohana tried to hide the halting of her breath; every spirit particle in her body revolting against what she was seeing. Her instincts screamed at her, and Minatzuki trembled at her side, begging to be released. _No, dear thing_, she thought towards her zanpaktou. _I know it's hard, but it is also Just_...

A sharp tingle in the back of her head was the only warning she got before the door to the chambers froze solid and shattered, flying into the room in a hail-storm of broken pieces.

"SHIROU-CHAN!" Hinamori's face broke into a delighted smile as the dust settled and she could finally make out the shape of the figure striding into the room. "I _knew_ you would come! Please, help me out of here, we have to get free! Aizen-taicho needs help..."

"Aizen Souske is dead." Hitsugaya's flat voice cut through her shrill cries, freezing the room by tone alone. "I saw him fall, Hinamori."

A quick flash of anger shot across her face, madness close on its heels, but in an instant it was gone and Hinamori laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sound. "NO, he isn't, it's a LIE! He was thought dead once before, and it's just a _lie_!!! He's _alive_, and they're hiding him...we HAVE to help him, Shirou-chan...!!"

"My name," Toushirou's voice cut through her cry and stopped her cold. "Is Hitsugaya-Taicho. Captain of the Tenth squad of the Gotei 13."

Trembling under his icy gaze; she seemed confused, as if she couldn't understand why she was not finding the help she thought she'd see there. "Please, you have to help me get free, we have to..."

"I didn't come here to free you." Despite herself, the tone in his voice made Unohana shudder. Looking at the girl with agonized resolve, Hitsugaya spoke to freeze air solid.

"I came to watch you die."

Ignoring her sputterings of protest, Hitsugaya close his eyes, his chin dropping slightly as he addressed his captain-commander.

"Yamamoto-sutaicho...I greatly appreciate your consideration in excluding me from these proceedings. At the risk of questioning your authority, I humbly request to be present for the execution."

His courage and fortitude took Unohana's breath away.

After a long moment, Yamamoto grunted, and nodded in acquiescence.

"You FOOLS!" Hinamori screamed. "Aizen-taicho is going to come back, you'll see, and he's going to crush you ALL for your stupidity! He has a VISION, and he's going to take me with him and set me above _all_ of you..."

The rant went on and on as the machine slowly started to come to life. Under her hysterical shouting, barely perceptible, Unohana heard a tiny tinkling sound. It took her a moment to figure out, until she looked at the tormented figure standing alone in the center of the room.

Hitsugaya Toushirou was standing stolidy, his back straight, his eyes locked on the dying girl. And tiny, frozen tears were sliding down his cheeks, falling and shattering on the ground. Each one emitted a sad, musical sound of agony as they shimmered to pieces against the marble.

* * *

Standing alone in the middle of the room, as the humming of the maching slowly raised in pitch, as Hinamori's frantic rantings rose above them, was pure hell. He tried to close his eyes, but all he could see was open sky, a thousand remembered sunsets with Momo at his side, and he could taste watermelon on his lips. Halcyon days that he had known were lost forever long before this moment. Hyourinmarou howled silently, and Hitsugaya spoke to the dragon as snow gently began to fall in the chamber.

_She died to us a long time ago, my friend._ When the machine finally spluttered into action, started to tear her apart particle by particle, his body shuddered, and he thought he would pass out from the agony...

Until warm arms reached around him, snaking across his chest and holding him tightly. He didn't need to glimpse pink silk fluttering at the corner of his vision, or feel firm breasts pressing into the back of his head, to know who it was. Before he could react, the strong limbs pulled inward, firming into a relentless embrace by the tall body behind him. He couldn't remember her being so strong, or so warm...her heat radiated out from her, tingling his skin as he found himself trapped in a heart-breakingly sympathetic hug. As he had done thousands of times before, his hands flew up, grasping firmly to remove the forearms from around his shoulders...

Only this time was different. Instead of peeling her away from him, Hitsugaya Toushirou found his fingers digging into her flesh, found himself leaning into her supportive stance. As much as he'd always hated hugs, this time he was burrowing deeper, accepting the strength she offered him.

Something told him that he wouldn't survive this without Matsumoto Rangiku at his back.

They stood there together as if alone in the center of the vast chamber, tiny snowflakes gently drifting around them. He realized that he was holding onto her for dear life, and that as usual she was more than up to the task of keeping him from collapsing under the weight of his duty.

Together, they silently watched Hinamori Momo slowly disappear.


	9. Growl

After the final, lingering traces of Hinamori Momo had disappeared forever, we stood there for a long time, not saying anything. The nightmare of seeing your first love die right before your eyes is simply indescribable; the agony resonated between us, the sympatico of sharing an experience no one should suffer the only comfort we had. He still had a death-grip on my arms, and for the life of me I couldn't let go of him. I don't know when the other captains left, but the snow had stopped falling and the room was empty when Hitsugaya-taicho finally loosened my embrace just enough to turn around. 

Our eyes met for the first time in weeks, and despite the shadows in them he looked glad to see me. We were standing close, my arms still draped loosely around his neck, his hands resting lightly on my wrists, and I realized with some small surprise that he had gotten just a little bit taller. His forehead was level with my collarbone, his head tilted back slightly less. I myself couldn't believe how happy I was to be looking into that elusive teal color again. Frozen tears crackled underfoot, and his face was drawn and haggard, but when he finally spoke, it was with the faintest of smiles.

"Let's go home, Matsumoto."

The pain wasn't gone, and neither were you, not entirely, but the words warmed me, and despite everything I found an answering smile ghosting my lips.

"_Hai_, Taicho."

* * *

"_Too bad. If only you'd held on a little longer_..."

Damn you. How _dare_ you do that to me? What else was I supposed to do? There _had_ to come a time when I stopped following you.

"_Gomen na, Rangiku"_

Too late, and not enough, Gin. _Not nearly enough_...

* * *

Going back was was very strange for me, and more awkward than I thought. That first night was the hardest, and I found myself longing for my sterile little sickroom. Not that I regretted anything; Hyourinmarou's cry had hit me like a thunderclap and I just knew it was time to go. My captain had been calling, hurting, had needed me to be there for him. What more reason did I need?

Still...everything seemed different. The compound. The buildings. My room - for some reason the mess on the floor and the chaos in general was oddly irritating to me and I couldn't relax. Full of nervous energy, I roamed the grounds like a restless ghost, keeping to the shadows, avoiding moonlight, ducking into doorways whenever a figure appeared on some late-night errand. I knew every hiding place and short-cut in the compound, and thanks to my partying days had long ago learned how to avoid being seen when necessary.

I drifted aimlessly for a while, but even the kitchens held no appeal to me. I finally found myself in the second-most familiar place in Tenth squad, and for the first time in a long time I felt at home. The administrative office was quiet and empty, and I yearned for its serenity to seep into me. I was tired, but only gave the couch a cursory glance; you were stirring around in my head, and I wasn't ready to relax and let you consume me just yet. I wanted a break from you, from the memories. I wanted something familiar, something all my own. I wanted _peace_.

I drifted across the dark room, making my way more from memory than the faint moonbeams that stole through the windows. Fingers lightly tracing the surface, I circled around my taicho's desk, tapping the back of his chair. The mountain of paperwork was higher than even I had ever seen it before, and a sense of guilt stole into my recondite mood. I could only imagine how much paperwork a war incited, and being at my bedside for weeks and weeks had surely contributed to the out-of-control mess. I could just see my poor captain schlogging through the endless reports, face screwed up in mingled concentration and annoyance.

"_Well...lookit we have here..."_

_Dammit, go away_. I thought angrily at you. _I'm back home now. Leave me alone_...

You chuckle rippled through me, Heineko's growl rising up swiftly to chase you away. Stubbornly, I grabbed a stack of papers, plunked myself down at my desk and started writing by moonlight. I barely knew what I was writing, but that didn't matter at the time, as long as it was _something_. Kanji after kanji flowed onto the page as I desperately tried to escape your laugh, your smile, the memories clammoring for attention.

Might as well have tried to defy gravity.

* * *

"Rangiku-san, don't cry," Nanao awkwardly patted my head, sympathy twisting her features. "You'll get it soon, I know you will."

Stifling another sob, I scrubbed angrily at my tear-streaked face; I must have looked an absolute wreck and you know how much I hate that. But it just hurt _so much_...after everything I'd done to get here, to be here, and now I was on the brink of complete and utter failure. I looked at my novice whites, hating them with a passion and wondering if I would ever wear squad robes.

"It's no use, Nanao-chan," I wailed. "Even if I were to get it, I'm still the laughing stock of the whole class. Even _Iba_ got his, for Heaven's sake..." Tears welled up once more, and despite myself another cry burbled up. "I'm _never_ going to get accepted into a squad if I don't even know how to...!" Anguished sobs wracked my body and prevented further speech as I wallowed in misery.

"Come on, Ran-san. Please stop crying; it'll happen, I know it will." Dear, sweet Isane. Her healer instincts were probably going crazy; she hated seeing anyone in pain. But there was nothing she could do about this. "You still have time...we have that Hollow exercise tomorrow afternoon..." She trailed off lamely, looking so upset at my distress that I almost wanted to pretend to cheer up, to make her feel better.

But I just couldn't. Rough, hiccuping sobs labored out of me as Nanao stroked my hair, trying to shush me.

"What's this?" A brazen voice cut through the mid-day air as a bald, shiny head poked into the secluded garden alcove in which I'd thought to hide myself. Ikkaku took in my bedraggled state with that endearing mix of bravado and concern. "What's happened to you?" Anger slipped into his face, followed by an eager grin. "Did someone mess with you? 'Cause I'll be happy to kick his ass..."

"No!" I wailed. "_Nothing's_ happened to me, that's just the problem!!" Throwing myself to the cround, I cried harder than ever.

"Ah, Rangiku-san, if you're going to cry at least do it beautifully," Yumichika piped in over Ikkaku's shoulder, preening at his immaculate bob. "You're all blotchy. Nothing is worth letting your appearance go." Any other time I would have nodded in agreement, but for the moment I was too upset to care.

Yachiru, in her blithly bubbly way, got them up to speed. "Ran-chan hasn't achieved shi-kai yet!" Her chipperness, usually so entertaining, made my chest twinge painfully. For once, I wished she would just shut up.

"Is that all?" Ikkaku's confident dismissiveness wasn't helpful in the least, but of course he didn't know that. "But you're stronger than any of us in almost everything else. You've got to be close..."

"CLOSE!?" I shrieked, launching myself upright. "You're damn right I'm close!! I can hear her, day and night, growling to make my hair positively frizz out. But that's _all_ I hear, and graduation is only a month away!!"

Looking somewhat taken aback, Ikka-kun raised a hand to scrub the back of his head. "Bah, you're being silly. Shi-kai is easy..." The idiot, he never really did know how to handle girls properly. Yumichika just looked mildly distressed at the idea of frizzy hair and said nothing.

I barked a harsh, bitter laugh. "Easy for you to say, you were the first one to get it in the whole class..."

"Yeah, well..." For his part, he looked faintly embarrassed. "Hey, you're not alone. Yumichika hasn't gotten his yet either, so at least you're not the last person in class to get it." I still don't know if it was deliberate or unconscious ignorance, but he failed to register the scathing looks from Nanao and Isane, or the pretty flush that spread across Yumichika's face. Clueless, he blundered on in his manly attempt at being encouraging. "Maybe you just need a reason to release..."

"Well...lookit what we have here."

I went from wanting to cry to wanting to throw up in half a second. I'd know that voice anywhere.

"Ichimaru-taicho!" Nanao exclaimed, and along with the others hit the ground in an appropriately submissive bow. Everyone but Yachiru, who clapped happily at everyone's swift prostration, and me of course; I couldn't have moved if I wanted to.

"We havin' a little cry-fest?" I couldn't raise my eyes above the hem of your white haori, but didn't need to. I knew the cruel smile on your face better than anyone. "What fer? Graduation ain't too far off, now. Or are those tears o' celebration?"

The way you said it, I knew that you knew _exactly_ what those tears were for.

"Ichimaru-taicho, we were just..." Ikkaku started, and I could tell from his voice how much he hated being so submissive. He was trying to eyeball Shinsou out of the corner of his eye; I could just see him counting the days until he could climb the ranks and fight duels of a captain's caliber.

"Scram," Gin said softly, cutting him off mid-word. Swallowing his rebellious pride, Ikkaku leapt to obey, Isane, Nanao and Yumichika fast on his heels. Yachiru lingered behind, happily watching them sprint off.

Giggling, she tugged on my sleeve. "Look at Shiny-Head's shiny head bobbing away...!" She chattered at me, but Gin's voice whipped out again.

"You too, pixie-nit. I hear Kenpachi-san is plannin' a little throw-down with the Eleventh squad taicho, and I'm sure you don' wanna miss all the fun." With a squeak of delight, Yachiru-chan disappeared in a flash of shunpo.

Leaving us alone in the little glen.

I couldn't swallow; my throat was all closed up and my body felt like it was full of cement. It took all my resolve not to tremble under your gaze. You were so close I could almost feel your heat, and you smelled exactly the way I remembered. I'd seen you since coming to Sereitei of course, since entering the academy, but from a distance. Always from a distance. I'd watched your rapid climbing of the ranks, not surprised in the least. I'd even borne your complete ignorance of me and wasn't surprised by that either. In truth, I'd never expected for you to ever acknowledge me, and despite the pain that knowledge caused me I had to admit I was somewhat relieved. What good would it have done anyway? We had nothing left to say to each other.

So why you would seek me out now...what could you possibly want with me? I was so close to failing the academy, I had nothing to offer you.

_What do you want?_ I thought silently, sneaking a wary glance up at you.

You watched Yachiru flicker away, grinning like a cat. Then you turned and looked at me, eyes squinted shut and expression more unreadable than ever. Your mask had grown thicker, more elusive over the years, and even I couldn't discern your thoughts in the slightest. After a moment your smile widened and you spoke directly to me for the first time in over a decade. Your voice tingled across my skin, the tone making me shiver.

"There, that's better." Ruthless intensity slipped into your next words. "Mus' be terrible hard to get anywhere in life, with a littl' kid hangin' on ya like that."

My stomach lurched as the ground dropped out from under me. In horror, my chin whipped up as I met your gaze. I wanted desperately to glare at you, but shock and hurt were shining too brightly in my eyes. I was so dumbstruck that I couldn't think of anything at all to say, my mouth working silently, and despite my best efforts tears sprang into the corners of my eyes.

"Hmph," you grunted a quick chuckle, thick with satisfaction. Drinking in the sight of my pain as if it were the sweetest wine you'd ever tasted, you grinned at me for a long moment, the noon sun glinting of your hair, and then with a flash you were gone.

I sat there until darkeness fell, until the stars burned bright and cold in the black sky. It took me that long to get my senses back. I couldn't believe what you had said, that you had dared to go there. I had thought that _something_ between us was sacred, not to be used and maniuplated for your unfathomable purposes. That one thing, I thought, had to be above your mockery.

Clearly, I'd been wrong. And I started to wonder,_ how much else was I wrong about_?

* * *

That was the day I stopped trusting you. Until then, I'd always regarded you with a sort of compassion, ever able to give you the benefit of the doubt. Always willing to hand you my heart when you asked for it, no matter how badly I knew you were going to treat it. But not anymore. The remnants of my heart, all the countless pieces of dead coal with which you had left me, had sunk together, hardening under the pressure of your cruelty and your absence, the gravity of those words in the glen finally crushing them into the hardest of elements. Out of the ashes of whatever it was that we had had, a diamond finally started to emerge.

* * *

The next day, at our student exercise, I was still in a state of shock, your words ringing in my ears and making it impossible to concentrate. Nanao-chan noticed that something was wrong with me, kept shooting concerned glances at me as our classmates slowly assembled on the training grass. Fingering my zanpaktou, feeling its ever-present growl ripple through me, I realized for the first time in my entire life how badly I wanted to kill something.

"Rangiku-san, are you okay? Are you sure you should...?" Nanao-chan pushed her glasses up slightly, trying to hide her frightened eyes. Overhearing her, Isane threw a tense glance of her own at me.

"I'm fine," I said with a growl, forcing your words out of my head as a thrill of anticipation swept through the gathered students. Tightening my grip on my pommel, I dropped into a defensive stance and waited for the tell-tale howl of the pseudo-Hollow that would be the focus of the exercise. I prayed only that I would find it before anyone else and get a chance to use all the agression and ferocity that was pent-up inside me to make a good showing for myself so close to graduation. Maybe, even without shi-kai, I would get noticed favorably...

I think I heard it first, but the surge of adrenaline was followed almost instantaneously by a wave of fear; there was more than one howl, and they were all around us. Confusion trickled through the class as several Hollows, looking and feeling every bit real and not the least bit pseudo, broke through the canopy of the woods and descended on us.

Several classmates stood stock-still, mouths open, throwing terrified looks at the Seats and captains lining the training grounds - was this planned, or was it a real emergency? I knew instinctively that they were going to stand around and wait to be rescued, could see the fear locking their limbs, and didn't spare another thought for them. Teeth bared in a blood-thirsty grin, I lept towards the Hollow nearest me; in flashes, I could see my closest friends leaping into the fray as well, also unencumbered by the hesitation that had immobilized half our class. Ikkaku's laugh reached my ears, as well as Nanao-kun's kido chant, and I found an eager grin splitting my face wide open. Swinging my sword around, I met the first Hollow that emerged in a blinding clash of reiatsu...

_Gods, I'd never felt so alive_!

The first Hollows went down relatively easy; we were seasoned near-graduates, and had done many similar drills. But our flush of victory was quickly washed away as another group emerged screaming from the treeline, faster and more vicious. Wave after wave hit us, and before long even the best of us were gasping for breath, our dodges coming slower and slower, even Nanao's bursts of kido flashing with less intensity. A large Hollow with huge, sphinx-like paws got a lucky swipe in during a split-second lapse in concentration, and with a grunt I found myself crumpled on the ground, dirt and grass mingling with blood in my mouth as I spit painfully.

A sharp shriek made me look up, and I saw Isane struggling under the weight of a giant Hollow claw, her strength flagging as she fought to keep from being impaled. I tried to draw breath, but my chest was in agony, and I thought I felt a shattered rib grind painfully at the motion. Through blurring vision, I saw my fellow classmates, my friends, most of them a hair's breadth away from succumbing to the Hollow onslaught, even Ikkaku's shi-kai snapping under a Hollow's fierce swipe. Too many of them, there was just too damn _many_ of them, and I couldn't understand why the captains were still watching from the sidelines..._what were they waiting for...?_

_No_, I thought painfully, breath no longer coming at all. _It can't end like this...it can't...like this_...

Without warning, your words from the glen swept up, dragging me off to the one place in the past I didn't want to ever visit again.

* * *

_I could see the snow billowing behind you as you stood in the doorway. You didn't say a word, and neither did I. Not out loud, anyway. _

_Gin, I said to you, silently, in my own head. What do you want to do with this kid?_

_I'll never forget the look on your face; it's the only time I ever saw sadness in your eyes._

_What do you want to do with me?_

_You turned, and walked away. I held the bundle in my arms even tighter, trying to shield it from the sight of your retreating figure._ I _should be the only one with that image to bear._

_And where are you going this time...?_

* * *

When I opened my eyes, my vision was blurred with hot tears. The Hollows were closing in their final attack, their mouths open in vicious roars, but in my head all was silent save your mocking voice. With your cruel, heartless words from the day before ringing in my ears and my most painful of memories thickening my voice, I finally found her name. I'd known it all along, I realized; she was more familiar to me than even you, had been my only true companion since that day in the cave, when sparks danced across my fingertips. With a scream, underscored by the ear-splitting growl of my released soul, I found my shi-kai.

_"Growl, HEINEKO!!!"_

In an instant my sword's blade dissipated, shooting out in a cloud of smoke. How fitting that it was ash. Cold, lethal, _dead_ ash, billowing and spreading to engulf every remaining Hollow in the training area. With a single growl, the ash dove into each Hollow, tearing into their bodies, burrowing deep before expanding outwards and causing all of them to simultaneously erupt into millions of glittering pieces. Fueled by a near-century of pain and loss, Heineko saved my friends and destroyed over a dozen Hollows in a single strike.

As silence fell over the glen, I only had enough time to glance around and make sure everyone was alive, see the captains and Seats sweeping in to take control of the situation, before I blacked out.

* * *

_Needless to say, a few weeks later, when my friends graduated, I was standing at their side. Heineko was purring deep within me, and this time it was _I _that ignored_ you


	10. Rooftops

Kyouraku Shunsui loved rooftops.

Well, in truth he loved many things in Sereitei. He loved warm afternoon naps under his favorite tree, apple blossoms slowly drifting around him and the sun filtering through his wide-brimmed hat. He loved the way his hand stung when Nanao-chan smacked him with her fan for being insufferable. He loved anything pink. He adored the way tea tasted when he was drinking it with Jyushirou, although in every other circumstance he greatly preferred sake. He loved practical jokes, and enjoyed doling them out in devious precision almost as much as he enjoyed finding himself the recipient of some cleverly-designed and well-deserved revenge. He loved singing off-key, composing stream-of-consciousness poetry and heavy flirtation. And above them all, what truly pleased him was a beautiful woman to look at and possibly a little something more. Unless Nanao-chan caught him, of course. No wait, take that back - _especially_ if Nanao-chan caught him...

Still...rooftops were just marvellous. You could accomplish all kinds of delightful things on rooftops. You could get a very nice tan, or catch a cool breeze on a particularly hot day. You could watch the sun rise, or set, or follow the stars as they wheeled overhead. You could listen in on a private conversation, or an even more private rendesvouz, and late at night you could watch students and various (meaning predominately Eleventh) squad's shinigami stumble home drunk, hooting and hollering and issuing slurry cat-calls. Assuming, of course, that you were not stumbling home right along with them.

And every once in a while, if you were lucky, you could meet someone else up on the smooth, red tiles and help them out a little bit. And this, despite popular opinion, was what Kyouraku Shunsui truly loved the most.

Which is why, on one particularly balmy night, standing outside his favorite vendor with a fresh bottle of his most beloved sake in hand, Shunsui was hard-pressed to decide exactly which of the above enjoyments was called for that evening. While Nanao-chan was, as always, at the top of his list, his hand already smarted from several earlier rappings and he had quite satisfied that itch for one day. Tea with Jyush was similarly moot, given the fine beverage just purchased, and would have to wait for another time. He did have several exquisitely designed practical jokes in mind for some of his favorite recipients and it was terribly hard to turn down such revelry, especially at night when it was decidedly easier to catch his prey asleep and unawares. _Tempting_, he thought to himself..._very tempting_...

But the fact of the matter was, there was little question as to how he would spend his night. Bad weather was brewing over a particular compound, had been noticably building for quite some time now, and for that particular squad to be experiencing adverse weather of any kind could only mean one thing. And after all, despite his reputation for lascivious self-indulgence, Shunsui was often the first to hear a silent cry for help, and never could turn his back on those he held dear when they were in need.

* * *

Hitsugaya was peering intently at the night sky. Or trying to, anyway; a small concentration of storm clouds were hovering directly overhead, limiting his field of view and producing the lightest of rains. A low rumble on the edge of hearing was running in counterpoint to the quiet rustle of falling drops; a long moment of observation would draw the conclusion that it was not thunder, but an ominous and continuous growl. Not that he noticed; it was Hyourinmarou producing the drizzle, Heineko providing the rumble, and for either to be occurring meant that Hitsugaya was far too upset for such background things to invade his perception. For the moment it was the moon, just rising and low on the horizon, that held his attention; he'd always been drawn to its cold brightness and he was perhaps hoping that its silent, white brilliance would illuminate some of the dark mysteries besieging him.

Hours had passed since he'd flashed away from the office directly below him; well, retreated actually. Over the past few weeks, it had become increasingly impossible to be comfortable or productive in his own administrative room. Despite how much he had complained about it in the past, having the place to himself for endless hours and chipping away at a never-ending pile of reports and filing had become rather routine and, dare he admit it, relaxing. It helped give him time to himself, time alone in his own head, and he had gotten to the point where much of his paperwork was done with only half a mind, giving him a certain solitude of thought that was famously difficult for a captain to secure. But now...

Now he had company. Near-constant and unnervingly mild-mannered. Not to mention frighteningly productive. The scritching of another pen in the silent room had taken to setting his teeth on edge, and he had often watched in somewhat frightened awe as his paperwork seemed to disappear before his very eyes. There were even some days where it was already done before he arrived in the morning, disorienting him entirely and leaving him little option but to face all the other demands on his time. But even worse than the unnatural presence of his dream vice-captain were the times when his fukutaicho's pen would start to slow down, scratching softer and softer and eventually stopping altogether. He wouldn't have to look over to see her corn-silk eyes glaze over as she slipped away again. And not long after she started blankly staring, pulled back into her past by her relentless specter, the low bank of smoky haze would start crawling across the floor...

"Lovely weather we're having."

Despite the quietly casual tone to the voice, Hitsugaya pratically jumped out of his skin. While he knew that he was far from alone in seeking quiet moments of reverie on rooftops, this was _his_ rooftop and unexpected company was unusual to the point of being unseemly. There was a certain etiquette among those who liked the high perches and usually favored haunts were well-known and generally considered sacrosanct. Except, of course, for Matsumoto; his fukutaicho had long ago established a relatively consistent and seemingly clueless habit of breaking his solitude and joining him, blithely chattering away to his general irritation. An ache in his chest belied how deeply he missed such interludes...

The warm, chocolatey voice that had just spoken, however, was most decidedly _not_ Matsumoto. As he whirled around to face the intruder, disappointment mingled with surprise.

"Kyouraku...taicho...?"

Shunsui was displayed in all his floral pink splendor, looking for all the world as if he was as much a part of the roof as one of the red clay tiles. Hitsugaya wondered grumpily how long he'd actually been sitting there watching him; the sake bottle was already open and going by smell had been at least partially enjoyed, although Toushirou could have sworn he was alone just moments before. No one should be able to hide their reiatsu that effectively. Or drink that fast, for that matter. _How does he do that_, Hitsugaya wondered, nose crinkling up in irritation.

"Indeed," Shunsui agreed affably, lifting a brimming sake cup etched with racy images. "Drink?"

"No, thank you..." Hitsugaya grumbled, wondering how he could tactfully ask his elder just what the hell he thought he was doing half-drunk and unannounced on a Tenth squad rooftop.

Shunsui saved him the trouble. "Ah, pity," he said, in a tone that was neither surprised nor put-off, and expertly tossed back the refused imbibement. Grimacing more from disappointment than fiery liquid, Shunsui continued. "And I do so hate drinking alone. Truth is, I was on my way to persuade my favorite drinking partner into sparing me the burden but," warm brown eyes peered out from under wide brim to regard him keenly, "it seems she is otherwise...occupied."

Despite feeling utterly invaded, Hitsugaya found himself grunting in bitter agreement, turning back around to look down into his coumpound. A low, thick fog seemed to be hovering on the ground, swirling and roiling under its own power and refusing to melt away despite the light precipitation. Maybe it was because he knew Shunsui was a good friend of Matsumoto's and he was hoping for some insight. Maybe he was just too tired and frustrated to hide his desperate need for advice. It absolutely had something to do with his hope that Kyouraku was deep enough in his cups not to remember any of this. Whatever it was, he found himself speaking more openly that he was usually wont to.

Staring morosely at the fog, Hitsugaya spoke with quiet intensity. "She's thinking of..._him_." He practically bit off the last word.

"Mmm," hummed Shunsui in quiet acknowledgement. There was something in the sound that was relaxing, as if there was no surprise or judgement. As if one was in just the right company for revealing deep issues of a personal nature. Hitsugaya didn't know if it was a product of cunning or inebriation, but surprisingly, it worked; he found the words practically pouring out of him.

"Whenever she...gets like this, I know she's thinking of him." He tried to keep the bitter tone out of his voice, utterly refusing to notice the timbre of jealousy. "And when she stays like this long enough, Heineko breaks loose and starts prowling - fully manifested and entirely out of control. She's positively terrorizing the entire squad, and our subordinates can't decide if they're worried or terrified. Last week, our fifth Seat tried flirting with her, just like he would have before. Harmlessly, in good fun, trying to get her to be," he sighed, fighting a tiny smile, "_normal_, I guess. Well, last night he woke up and found a six-foot-tall hellcat manifestation sitting on his chest and drooling on him; he won't even _look_ at Matsumoto now. And don't get me started on what she's been doing to the kitchen staff..." He tried to hide a sudden grumble from an unusually-empty stomach. He couldn't remember the last time in a week he'd had a proper meal...

"She's been back for weeks now, but she's still not..._okay_. She's just...she..." He struggled to find the right example to properly convey his agitation. "Kyouraku, she does _paperwork_ for heaven's sake!"

A finger shot up as the wide brim was shoved up off the tanned forehead. Chocolate eyes wide open, Shunsui regarded the young captain in utter shock.

"_Really_?" He looked as rattled as Hitsugaya had ever seen him.

"Reams and reams of it," Hitsugaya replied grimly. "It's even spelled correctly, and impeccably organized." A note of panic was creeping into his voice; gods, how often had he wished for exactly that? Now that he had it, though...

"Dire indeed,"Shunsui rumbled dolorously. "Still...isn't that what you always wanted? Are you sure this isn't an improvement worth keeping?" Hitsugaya thought he saw a small smile forming before the hat brim was pulled back down to hide it. Hitsugaya ground his teeth, hoping the drizzle and darkness would hide his faintly pink cheeks.

_"I just want Matsumoto back."_ He stared ferociously at the fog below and prayed that he wasn't about to hear something along the lines of looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Several moments and more than one slurp of the sake cup passed before Shunsui spoke again.

"Can't you just tell her to keep Heineko under control? You are her captain, after all..."

"I've tried talking to her, but she's always...gone when Heineko manifests. I've tried everything, even shouting right in her face, but she doesn't even hear me..."

"Ah!" Shunsui erupted, knocking his hat back as a knowing smile spread across his face. "Sounds like you've stumbled across a trigger."

"A _what_?" Histugaya's brows descended as he stared at his senior in confusion.

"A trigger," Shunsui repeated jovially. "Like on those strange contraptions humans use? You know, those gun-things?" Hitsugaya's mystification only deepened, as did his frown, so Shunsui stopped toying with him and his tone descended towards serious. "It's a thought, or a memory, that sparks a release. A well-documented if extremely rare phenomenon in reiatsu development." His somber expression took on a sharp edge. "It is also tends to be ridiculously powerful and notoriously unstable. Not to mention nearly impossible to unlearn." Brown eyes seared into him. "More than one shinigami have died in the attempt."

Hitsugaya quietly absorbed that information. He'd never heard of such a thing, although it was true that releases and what sparked them were not something one talked about often. Or ever, for that matter. It was far too personal, too..._intimate_. But this was unlike anything he had ever considered. Not that reiatsu releases were ever without danger or risk; for his part, he and Hyourinmarou had always worked in tandem. Even when he was gaining mastery over his bankai, the challenges Hyourinmarou gave him and the vicious fights he'd had to win in order to achieve dominance were still accomplished within some kind of communion and understanding. He'd..._learned_ from his ice dragon, even while facing him as an adversary. He'd naturally assumed that the process was more or less the same for everyone. But if this trigger concept was indeed the case, if something other than total symbiosis and synchronization was controlling Matsumoto's release...

His eyes sparkled dangerously as the lights in his head went off.

"She doesn't..._own_ her own release?" It was a horrifying and terrible prospect, but as soon as he said it he knew that it was the truth. _If the memories... if _those _memories are controlling it..._Something twisted hotly in his chest and a bitter taste stole into his mouth as the ramifications of that thought hit home. For Gin to have _any_ part of Matsumoto, much less her _kai_...

"She has to take it back." He growled ferociously, teeth bared. "No matter what's in the past, her _kai_ should belong to her and no one else..." He fell silent, fury and something he didn't want to name making the bile rise up in his throat.

Shunsui leaned back, eyes slipping closed as he spoke almost off-hand. "Perhaps...she needs help."

Hitsugaya's teal eyes widened. "Help?" His skin prickled at the thought, and a slow blush stole into his cheeks. "But...you can't help someone with their own bankai. That would be like..." ..._sleeping with her_, his mind finished as he clamped his mouth shut. Only that wasn't strictly true either...it would be even more intimate than that. _It would be...would be like_... He could feel the heat rising to his face as he imagined exactly what that would be like. He glared at Shunsui as if he'd been asked to do something positively indecent. "A person's ban-kai is their own, and not to be achieved with anyone."

Shunsui shrugged, deftly ignoring the heated look, a knowing aire peacefuly resting across his features along with a small, secretive smile. After a long moment, without opening his eyes, he spoke softly.

"It's been done before."

A deep shock stole over Hitsugaya, the words stilling him. For a long moment he couldn't think straight, but as the words sank in his heart started beating faster. His eyes slid aside to rest on Katen Kyoukotsu as Yamamoto-dono's words echoed in his head...

_"...twin swords...the only two of their kind in all of Sereitei..."_

Awareness flooded him. _Kyouraku..and Ukitake...?_ The breath caught in his throat as the truth slammed into him. _Can it really be done? It's dangerous, he said... people have died trying...but if it_ could _be done...if she could be free..._

Possibilities opened up in his head as Hyourinmarou surged upwards, drawn by his silent call, glowing eyes regarding him clamly. _What do you think, my friend_, he asked silently, ramifications thrumming in his head and his brain racing a million miles an hour, trying to see every outcome and weigh every probablility. For his part, Hyourinmarou said nothing, but his ruby eyes sparkled the way they always did when presented with a challenge worthy of accepting.

Hitsugaya never noticed Shunsui leave, or that the rain had stopped falling.


	11. Rumors

_My reputation..._

Ah, Gin. I guess it's about time you asked me about that. The only thing about me that you didn't have any part in making. I'm sure it's driven you nuts over the decades. Which, I'll admit, was the pretty much the point.

It has become a creature unto itself by now. Many have professed to not only know my reputation, but to have intimate knowledge of it; the number of men who claim to have had me are beyond counting.Whatever the rest may think they know, you can be certain that there are many more lies than truth to their tales.

The real truth about my reputation and it origins are known to very, very few. And those that do know my secrets love me enough never to reveal them.

But now...

_...for my own reasons, I want to set the record straight_.

* * *

First of all, everything you've ever heard about my drinking is completely and utterly true. I drink copiously and often, and have the uncanny knack of being entirely articulate while thoroughly smashed. I have won nearly every drinking game ever invented, and the few that I have lost were to the only other person in Sereitei who can drink enough sake to drown an elephant and stay standing. Our mutual respect for each other in this capacity helped cement a deep friendship, and it was with his help, along with the many nights I've spent in his room, that the other rumours got started in the first place.

The night I discovered my ridiculously high alcohol tolerance was the day I got accepted into Tenth squad. Fit to celebrate, I found myself in my first drinking game ever with none other than Kyouraku Shunsui. He'd made a beeline for me practically the minute I graduated and it didn't take long to figure out that he was just dying to see the inside of my kimono. Frankly I hadn't minded in the least; damn if he wasn't handsome and his prowess was legendary among female shinigami. I was flattered, and thanks to your recent betrayal was eager at that point for some kind of intimate experience beyond being with you. I figured I couldn't do much better, and despite his rogue status something in his warm brown eyes spoke of a gentle heart that would never hurt anyone.

Turns out I was right; halfway through the drinking game, a dozen or more sake-glasses already lined up face-down on the floormats, a look of concern had crossed his face and he'd quietly suggested it was time to call it a draw. It would have been easy to dismiss as concern that he would lose, but I had seen the total lack of hubris in his eyes. He was worried about _me_, about getting me too drunk for my own good. It was then that I realized he would never, ever take advantage of me, and it occured to me that I wouldn't mind losing this game in the least.

But I also wanted to see if I could win.

Which I did. Just barely.

I thought I was prepared to collect the spoils of my victory. I tried to be. Shunsui's arms were warm and inviting, his kisses sweet and extremely well executed, his body hard as a rock and deliciously masculine..._but it wasn't you._ We hadn't even gotten to shedding our clothes before he sensed my hesitation, the slight stiffness in my body, and pulling away looked deeply into my eyes. After a long moment, his own eyes has glittered softly with dawning realization.

"Ahhh," he'd sighed ponderously, the warmth and understanding in the sound making my chest ache. "Your heart belongs to someone else."

I couldn't help it - he had no way of knowing how true those words were. Tears sprung to my eyes, followed after a moment by slow, wrenching sobs.

Slowly, carefully, he'd wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, in a way that I'd always wished you would have. Stroking my head gently, he'd murmered quietly into my hair.

"Hush, pet. It's okay." He sighed. "So does mine."

I never explained, and he never asked me to. He just held me as I cried, and it was the first time in my entire life I felt safe. Later, after my eyes had dried, a hell butterfly was sent out and Ukitake-taicho joined us; their good-natured ribbing and tales of childhood mischief had me giggling for the rest of the night. When the sun came up, they both tried to talk me out of walking home from Kyouraku's chambers; Ukitake even offered to take me with him to Fourth squad for some of Unohana's renowned hangover cure.

But I politely refused. Sometime during the night I'd realized why you'd claimed me the way that you had, all those years ago. You'd wanted to be sure to have a part of me that no one else could. That discovery was heady with implication, and for the first time ever I found myself armed with the ability to hurt you. Head held high, I marched out of that room and through the Eightth compound in broad daylight, letting anyone and everyone see where I'd spent the night. I know for a fact that Shunsui never said a word, but from long experience his subordinates extrapolated wildly.

From that day on a new Matsumoto Rangiku was born.

* * *

_The truth, Gin, is that I've been with no one besides you_.

I spent many more nights in Shunsui's quarters, with or without Ukitake, but he never once laid a finger on me. Oh sure, I went home with plenty of men besides. I put my legendary alcohol tolerance to good use and often put on a good show of inebriation while remaining perfectly clear-headed. I was always able to out-last whoever I was with, and if my companions always passed out and woke up alone they would never admit to it. The stories they regaled of their imaginary conquests were so much more entertaining than anything I could have come up with on my own and were told to anyone who would listen.

At the time, I didn't care. I just wanted to hurt you.

And it worked. I know it did. I could tell by how thoroughly you ignored me from then on. Our entire time together in the Gotei 13, you never spoke directly to me again, even when I was on the other end of your blade.

Except the one time, when you were leaving. And then you were untouchable, surrounded by a beam of light as you disappeared into hell.

* * *

I finally had established a piece of me on my own, degenerate though it was, and for many years I thought I was happy. Until sea green eyes, white spikey hair and a frown I would grow to adore made me think again.

It all started changing when I was ordered out of the administrative office one day for being too hung-over to hold a pen. Stumbling out of the room, I heard quiet words behind me.

"I don't know how you can tolerate such behavior." Soi Fon, who had stopped by for a routine security check. The disgust in her voice made me angry, but my taicho's response surprised me.

"Because," he'd said simply, sighing in well-practiced frustration,"it's just an act. She's_...better than that_."

* * *

Those words rang in my ears for a long time and made me start to think. I had been comfortable with my image, had plenty of friends who loved me just the way I was, and with you avoiding me had had little need for introspection. But in light of my captain's insight I couldn't help re-evaluating.

Because my taicho was right; it _wasn't_ me. That silly, stupid promiscuous girl had nothing to do who I really was, what I really wanted. The image had taken on a life of its own and I had been mindlessly fulfilling it for years. In trying to break free of your moulding me into something I didn't understand, I had turned myself into something I wasn't at all.

That it took my grumpy, brilliant, inexperienced little captain to see it astounded me. I began to ask myself what, if anything, about me was real. How silly, to live for so long and know so little about yourself.

As I started to entertain the idea of letting the real me emerge, I had to wonder - _who the hell was I?_


	12. Stay

With an ear-splitting crack and an explosion of paperwork, Matsumoto's desk flew apart and fell in pieces to the floor. Shocked out of the clear blue sky, her instincts nonetheless took over as she shoved herself out of the way. As the cloud of tattered paperwork started to sift and slowly sink to the ground, she could just make out green eyes staring at her with barely-restrained fury. Her captain was crouched in front of her where her desk had been only moments before, Hyourinmarou withdrawn and jutting out of the floor. She barely had time to register what was happening, much less wonder why he'd just sliced her desk in half, before he spoke. 

"Matsumoto," he growled, anger cracking his voice,"Seal your zanpaktou _this instant_."

Stunned, she glanced down at her lone hilt; the blade was gone, which made no sense at all. She hadn't called Heineko out..._had she?_ She'd been doing paperwork, for gods sake, what was her blade doing missing...?

Glancing around the room, she registered the traces of ash just a split second before the familiar growl reached her. Whipping around to look out the window, she saw her massive bankai thrashing around the compound yard, chasing screaming shinigami into buildings amidst general pandemonium. Swallowing hard, she managed to croak, "Heineko!"

The Hellcat froze instantly, just moments away from swiping at an unarmed novice, and turned to look at her. Silently she ordered her to settle down and come back to her, but for a long, terrifying moment the Soul Slayer refused to obey. Finally, with a glare and a decidedly rebellious grumble, the huge cat began dissipating. Holding her breath painfully, Matsumoto watched for what seemed like an eternity as her zanpaktou slowly, reluctantly, reformed in her lap. Once its form was finally solid, she realized her hands were trembling, and she stared at her katana as if she'd never seen it before. Drawing a ragged breath, she spoke in a shaking voice.

"Taicho, I'm...so sor-"

"_Silence_." The cutting tone surprised her; not that she'd never heard it before, but he'd never directed it at her. "Come with me." Yanking Hyourinmarou out of the floor, Hitsugaya turned on his heel and marched towards the door without sheathing his blade. "Bring Heineko with you."

"Tai-"

"_Not another word, Matsumoto_." At the door he turned to glare at her, and something in his eyes made her gulp. "That's an order." A swirl of white haori and he was gone.

Trying to work the moisture back into her mouth, she gripped her pommel with white knuckles and followed.

* * *

He didn't give her the luxury of shunpo, forcing her to march behind him, enduring every silent and frightened stare from every Tenth squad shinigami they passed, all the way through the compound to the training grass at the edge of the woods just beyond the complex. Once there, he crossed the field, stabbing Hyourinmarou into the ground along the way, leaving it behind as he walked over to his favorite rock. Not looking at his fukutaicho, he slowly and methodically took off his captain's haori and folded it up, placing it on the rock. Finally, turning to face her, he forced himself to endure the terrified bewilderment in her cornsilk blue eyes and spoke.

Quietly, dangerously. "Just who do you think I am?"

She blinked, trying to understand. "Tai...cho?"

"Yes." As he spoke, he slowly advanced on her. "I am Hitsugaya Toushirou, wielder of Hyourinamrou. I am captain of the Tenth Squad of the Gotei 13. I am your _captain_. I do not lie, and I do not fail." Reaching Hyourinmarou, his hand shot out and he gripped the pommel, lasering her with his look.

"_And I will not share you with a dead man_."

Her face went white, but he didn't care. Withdrawing Hyourinmarou, he dropped into a defensive pose.

"Release your sword and fight me."

"Taicho, I don't-"

Her words cut short as she was forced to flash away, narrowly avoiding his first swipe. It was slower than he was capable of, and they both knew it; he was baiting her.

"Please, Taicho, I just-" With a loud clang she deflected his next swipe, flipping over backwards to avoid the third. She was panting, rattled, not focused. "Can't we just-?"

"Do you think I'm not serious, Matusmoto!?" he roared. The next hit _was_ as fast as he was capable of, and she barely blocked it. Sweat appeared on her brow, but at least the tiny frown on her face told him she was starting to see the gravity of the situation. Testing her, he threw a volley of blows at her; her instincts together with some sheer luck kept her just barely out of reach, but she was retreating and blocking, nothing more. She was fully on the defensive, and that just wouldn't do.

Falling back slightly, he allowed her a moment to catch her breath as Hyourinmarou rose up inside him.

"Matsumoto," he said quietly, "I will show you how serious I am." Her eyes grew wide as he released his shi-kai.

For a moment she hesitated, then he saw the steel he loved so much forming in the back of her eyes. Firming up her stance, she shifted her grip, and he waited for just the right moment. He saw her reach for her shi-kai, saw her eyes start to glaze over...

"_NO_!" And then he was inches from her face, swords grinding together as his hit pulled her back to the present. "You stay _here_, Matsumoto!" Her eyes brimmed with anger and confusion, but he had to make her see. "You don't need to go _away_ for your release." The field rang with the music of their lashing swords. Parry. Thrust. Pinning her arms and breaking inside her frame, he shot a hand forward and laid in over her heart. "_Here_ is your kai." She pushed him off, a torrent of emotions playing across her face, but he couldn't back off now. Leaping at her, he howled. "_Claim it!"_

A collision, and she was falling back, grasping her left arm and grunting in pain. As he gave her some space, he could see the blood pouring through her fingers as she tried to hold the gash closed. Fury was seething out of her eyes, and his heart lurched at the determination that lay in them. Silently, he prayed: _please, dear gods, please..let it be enough..._

Pulling her hand back, she looked at the blood coating it. When she met his eyes again, the steel was laced with hurt and betrayal. He endured it, knowing there was no other way, and his gamble was rewarded as she slowly lowered her stance into something that was, finally, on the offensive. Eyes locked on his and something feral glowing in their depths, she stayed exactly where she was, in the present, in the glen, _with him_, as she called out her shi-kai. The deadly tone of her lowered voice made his body sing.

"_Growl_," her murderous purr on the verge of being seductive, "_Heineko_."

The look on her face as she launched herself at him nearly drove him insane, and it was in that moment that he realized how desperately he loved her.


	13. Adieu

_This is it, Gin. This is our last memory together._

You smile is gone, your laugh achingly silent.

_As much as I loved you, we both know it's time for this_.

Holding my breath, I leap into the past...

_Ready to say goodbye._

* * *

"Kira!" 

Sliding to a stop beside the pale figure, I reached out to take him by the shoulders. He was laying face-down, eerily still, Wabisuke sticking out of the ground in a grotesque parody next to him. Gently turning him over, I laid a hand on his chest and reached with my senses; while I have no talent for healing, every warrior is taught the basics. Feeling the slightest of pulses, I breathed a sigh of relief. "He's alive. Just barely."

My taicho's eyes were locked on the horizen, tightening in anxiety at the trashing reiatsus being released just out of sight. Gritting his teeth, his voice was laced with urgency. "Matsumoto..."

"Go," I said instantly. "I'll be right behind you."

Our eyes locked for a second, and then he nodded, and was gone.

Feeling his reiatsu fading into the distance, I latched a tiny part of my awareness onto him, following him, making sure I would know where to find him later. Getting to my feet, I prepared to hoist Kira onto my shoulder and flash directly back to Fourth; as much as I needed to save his life, my skin prickled at the thought of leaving my taicho to fight alone. Swearing not to take a second longer than necessary, I tightened my grip and pulled...

Kira never left the ground. Without ever seeing the motion, a blade was suddenly jutting out of his chest, pinning him to the ground. My stomach lurched in horror and, swallowing the fear and dread that suddenly seemed to block my throat, I whipped my head around.

_Only one blade has that reach_...

"Now now now, that just won' do." Your figure emerging from the smoke and haze of the battlefield drew all breath from my lungs, all moisture from my mouth. "When I defeat someone, I expect 'em to stay defeated."

Slowly, I let go of Kira's arm and with infinite care glided around into a defensive stance, my every motion taut. I regarded you as if you were a viper poised to strike, and for once there wasn't an ounce of lenity in me. Too much time had passed, too many betrayals had occurred, and your normal effect on me was nullified by the cold realization that not for a second would you hesitate to kill me.

"Oh? _Do_ you, now...?" My voice was darkly dangerous as I brought Heineko around in front of me, my grip creaking the leather on her hilt, and waited.

Delighted, you laughed out loud, withdrawing Shinsou and regarding me warmly. Head tilted, you glanced nonchalantly at the horizon. "Lovely weather we're havin', ain't it?"

Ice crawled through my stomach and I wondered if you truly had gone mad, if any of the boy that I had loved all those years ago remained in the power hungry monster you had become. Holding my guard, I nonetheless tried one last time to get through to you.

"Gin, please. _Don't do this_..." I hated the begging tone in my voice, not because I wasn't desperate, but because I knew it wouldn't work.

"Don't do what, exactly?" Your grin turned sharp, you accent fading. "Rangiku, have you _ever_ really known what I was up to?" A bitter tone crept into your voice. "After everything I've done for you..."

"Everything you've_ done_ for me?" I gasped, flabbergasted. "What have you done, Gin? You just killed Kira. You assasinated Room 46. You've betrayed everything we stood for! _You LEFT me- _!!" With a strangled sound, I clamped my mouth shut and fought the sudden twist of nausea. _Did I really just say that..._?

You sighed, shaking your head sadly. "Always misunn'erstood. Even by you..."

You were quick, but I was ready for it. Shinsou ground to a halt inches from my face, and I was proud to see that this time Heineko held true, not a crack in sight. I had grown stronger since you'd last crossed my blade.

"Hm." With a smirk, you pulled back and regarded me proudly. "Not bad. Not bad at all..."

But I wasn't even listening. With a yell, I called out Heineko, and her instantly-formed shield over my left shoulder was the only thing that kept you from slicing my arm off. Bringing my left hand up, I whipped her around to shoot straight at you, knowing you would flash away. My right hand came around, and with a quick chant you were engulfed in a ball of flame the instant you reappeared. Grunting, you jerked away a hair's breadth away from being singed.

The next moments were entirely preoccupied with staying alive as you threw a volley of kido shots at me. I was fast, and you were faster, but Heineko was always there at just the right instant to deflect or absorb your blows, or swooping at your face and putting you just enough off balance to keep a swing from slicing too deep. We were both covered in sweat and blood when you finally pulled back for a moment, a brilliant smile on your face.

"Ran-san," you said cheerfully, "I think yer actually tryin' to kill me."

I sensed your flash but couldn't move fast enough; a surge of adrenaline shot through me as I tried to bring my sword around in time, but you were already behind me, leaning in...

"And that," you purred in my ear, "_makes me love you mor' 'n ever."_

That's when I snapped.

Maybe it was hearing those words, finally, after all these centuries. Maybe it was fearing they were a lie. Maybe it was fearing they were true. In any case, they would turn out to be the death of you.

With a sound like an earthquake ripping the ground open, Heineko exploded out of me.

A massive cloud bank of smoke erupted out of my reiatsu, spewing out around us, completely englufing us. In a moment it had billowed up to block out the sun, leaving us alone inside a cocoon of ash, the air an eerie twilight. A torrential wind tore around us, whipping the ash into a frenzy, making our kimonos lash against our wrists. I could feel her forming behind me, knew in my heart what was emerging from the fog, and by the angle of your gaze could tell that she towered over my head. Heineko stalked forward, every-tail lash shrieking through the air, finally stopping to look at you, standing proud with me between her paws. Seeing you for the first time with her own eyes, I could feel the rage filling her enormous form as she opened her maw and screamed.

It would have deafened anyone else, but you looked at if it were music to your ears. You drank her in, took in the tidal wave of reiatsu pouring out of me, with a look of pure rapture on your face. I could almost see tears in your eyes as you spoke.

"_So...this is what I've created."_

"_No,Gin_," I said, Heineko's growl in sickening underscore, the look in my eyes pure death. "_This is what you've forsaken_."

Heineko screamed again, and I knew that she couldn't be held back any longer. Tears streaming down my face, I let her go.

"Growl," I whispered, "_Heineko_."

I don't know how she kept up with you. It takes a decade or more to master bankai, and you'd had much longer than that with Shinsou. You had every benefit of experience and training but were still no match for my beautiful Hellcat. I don't know half of what she did, any of the techniques she threw at you with casual and terrifying abandon. All I know is that she was borne out of everything you had done to me, every pain I'd suffered at your hands. All the centuries that had passed, she had waited for this. She knew you even better than I did, and she came out knowing _exactly_ how to defeat you.

We fought for an eternity. We fought while you called out your bankai and tried to slice me to ribbons. We fought while the Hougyuoku released and tore a crack in heaven's gate. We fought while the entire force of Sereitei battled to keep a madman from crossing through it. We fought while the Aizen fell, just short of his goal. We fought as the Hougyuoku was destroyed, its disintegration streaking rainbow colors across the sky.

That was when you looked up, and that split-second changed everything. I could see the defeat on your face. When you looked back at me, it was with a weary resignation that nearly broke my heart.

But it was too late; whether deliberate or not, you'd given Heineko the opening she needed. Faster than either of us could see, she struck, and despite myself, I was screaming.

"_NO_!" My cry was just enough to keep her claws from slicing you in half, but we both new the wound was still mortal. Panic laced through me, and when you started to fall I was there to catch you, lowering you gently to the ground.

* * *

We looked at each other for a long time. There was nothing to say, and my tears wouldn't come. You were laying in the mud with me kneeling at your side, and we were both covered in your blood. After a while, as your breath grew shallower, you lifted a hand and gently touched a strand of my hair. Though it was caked with blood and sweat, you ran its ends through your fingers as if it were the softest silk. I wanted to take your hand in mine, to hold you to me... 

But at that moment a cool, fresh breeze kissed my cheek, and my hands stayed in my lap.

The rattle entered your breath, and we both knew it was the end. Gazing deeply into my eyes, you sighed.

"Ah, Ran-san. I'm so tired..." Dropping my hair, you hand fell limply above your head. The most beautiful smile I'd ever seen lit up your face.

"...I think I'll take a nap..."

_And then you were gone_.

* * *

Your eyes were still open, fixed on the heavens. Though you were no longer in them, I couldn't tear my gaze away. I was still looking into their depths, looking for answers, looking for _something_... 

Until I looked up, into eyes the color of sea foam, and found what I'd been looking for all along.


	14. Choose

The training grounds were oppressively silent.

Only moments before, the grassy area and surrounding woods had rung with the sounds of battle. Hitsugaya was breathing hard, sweat freezing on his skin as exhaustion trembled through his body. The battle had raged for hours and was as brutal as it was crude; young though she was, Heineko was still uncontrolled and ferocious; the fact that she had already killed one seasoned captain had not been lost on him.

In truth, he hadn't been entirely sure she wouldn't kill him, too. But he had known that, hours earlier, when he had taken this risk...

* * *

_His fukutiacho had dropped to one knee, gasping, too tired to move or even raise her head. Her knuckles were white on the pommel of her sword, which had reformed itself at her side as her reiatsu bottomed out. For hours they had battled, her ashen shikai no match for his frozen dragon, and he had pushed her to the brink, pushed her father than he thought she'd been able to go. Her posture, the wounds blossoming on her body, made him almost hate himself for driving her to this. He gritted his teeth, knowing that he had to drive her still further..._

_"Matsumoto." At the sound of his voice, her breath caught, but still she did not look up. "Your bankai got loose today and almost killed some of your subordinates." She slumped a little further and he could feel the guilt radiating off of her. "It wasn't the first time, but it_ must _be the last. You must learn to control her."_

_"How?" She grated, and when she looked up there were tears in her eyes. "I don't even remember calling her out, not once. The only reason she manifested in the first place was because of..."_

_"DON'T_ _say his name to me." He snapped, harsher than he wanted to be, his anger bubbling up. "Ichimaru did_ not _call out your bankai -_ you _did." The glimmer of pain in her eyes at the name made him want to shake her. "Matsumoto, a manifestation is not just a thing, a being. It is a reflection of your very soul, the deepest expression of your truest self. NO ONE controls that but you."_

_A short, bitter laugh bubbled out of her. "I'm not so sure..." Her face was drawn and there were shadows in her eyes; the hint of tormented madness in them made his stomach clench. Catching the flash of fear crossing his features, the echos of Hinamori in his eyes, she threw her hands over her face in anguish. "Oh, Toushirou," she wailed. "I hardly_ _know_ _who I am anymore."_

_His heart nearly broke at her bitter weeping, his name on her lips singing in his ears, and before he knew it he was kneeling in front of her, carefully pulling her hands back to stare fiercly into her tear-streaked eyes._

_"You are Matsumoto Rangiku, weilder of Heineko. You are as beautiful as the sunset, and brilliant as daybreak. You are loyal, and true, and ferocious in combat. You are passionate, strong, wilder than the ocean. You love like there is no tomorrow, and you are better than the one who hurt you." At that she tried to break his gaze, but he caught her chin and turned her to face him. "You are my fukutaicho," he said huskily, a fierce light burning deep in his eyes, "and I will settle for no less than_ all _of you."_

_The tears streaming down her face were different now, and she was looking at him in a way that suddenly made his blood boil. Her hands were trembling in his, and he could swear her eyes had never looked so blue...Pushing away from her abruptly, he walked a few feet away and tried to calm himself; he could not lose focus now. The ice that started to crawl up his arms and down his back helped, and after a moment he trusted himself to speak. Over the wings forming across his shoulder, he issued what he prayed would not be his last command to her. _

_"Call out your bankai, Matsumoto. It's time to end this."_

_He didn't need to turn around to see her eyes glaze over, to see her slipping away. He could feel it, followed almost instantly by the eruption of her reiatsu. Turning, he let her go, left her free to face her demons as her soul unleashed itself. With a seismic rumble, Heineko launched herself at him..._

* * *

Now he was standing in the middle of the glen, and if he was shivering slightly it had nothing to do with the sweat freezing on his skin. 

Only moments before, Heineko had suddenly stopped in her tracks, whipping around to stare at her soulsource. A long moment had passed while he kept a wary eye on her, Hyourinmarou hovering protectively over him; he had an idea of what was happening, but wouldn't lower his guard until he was sure. An eternity seemed to pass; then the hellcat's massive head had swung back around to look at him, and for the first time ever he'd seen the great beast's power rippling calmly in the large silver eyes, simmmering quietly and under control. Purring contendedly, she had slowly stalked away to the side of the glen, allowing him his first glimpse of Matsumoto since she had slipped away hours ago.

Crouched in the middle of the glen, fully present and more beautiful then ever, sat his fukutaicho. The shadows in her eyes were gone, and the way she was looking at him made his mouth go dry.

Slowly, she rose to her feet and walked towards him. His heartrate, which had just started calming down, was speeding up again, and he wondered when she had learned to _glide_ that that...

Before he could speak, she was standing in front of him, throwing her arms around him, enveloping him in a relentless hug that was far more enjoyable than he cared to admit. He realized he _had_ grown a little taller; instead of the usual embarassment, his face was pressed up against her collarbone, and when she lowered herself slightly into him he found his forehead comfortably nestled against her neck. Without thinking, his arms came up and snaked around her waist, pulling her into him; nothing had ever felt so intoxicating in his entire life.

"I'm back, Taicho," she murmered into his hair, and his eyes slid closed in a relief that bordered on ecstasy. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long." He couldn't find any words to say, so he just held her tight, breathing her in while her hair tickled his face.

A while passed before she noticed the slight tremble in his body, and pulling back she looked at him, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Embarrassed, he tried to pull away. "Nothing." Her grip didn't let him go anywhere, and he found himself fingering the tear in her sleeve, wincing at the gash that lay underneath it. After a moment he found the courage to look into her eyes. "I'm...Matsumoto, I'm sorry...what I did to you..."

Her face softened, and it made his throat tighten. "You did what needed to be done, and I am grateful." When the strained look on his face didn't go away, her expression turned quizzical. Patiently, she waited.

"I was...worried...I didn't know...for sure..." He couldn't seem to form the words past the lump in his throat; blushing furiously he tried to find a way to express what he meant. Finally, he simply said, "I'm glad you came back," and was saved by her warm chuckle. It rippled across his skin and raised goosebumps.

"Oh, Toushirou," and her voice was pitched low, making his body sing, and hearing her say his name again nearly drove him insane. Then she was leaning in, and all sanity flew out the window as he barely caught her last words.

"After so many years, you of all people should know that the man I would choose..."

Her voice turned to breathy whisper as her lips touched his.

".._is you_."

Hitsugaya Toushirou had always thought that watermelon was the sweetest thing in the world. He was never so happy to be wrong.


	15. Epilogue

_Hello, Gin._

It's been a long time since we last spoke. It's strange now...ever since the day I claimed my bankai, you no longer seem alive. Just a ghost, if anything. It was inevitable, and unimaginably freeing, but sometimes I can't help but feel that it is also a little sad...

Sometimes it's hard to think back on all that has happened. So much has changed since the Great War, it seems it all took place a lifetime ago, though it was barely over a decade. The scars of what was done can still be seen; so many people were lost, captains and seats alike, and filling those voids has taken many, many years. Shinigami who have found their bankais are few and far between, and even those that have it were reluctant to step into positions that held such memories, be they good or bad.

The Fifth division suffered terribly from both the betrayal of their captain and the execution of their vice. Further upheaval was imminent, as the replacement they found for them was none other than Madarame Ikkaku. That position was the first to be filled, surprisingly enough; despite his bone-deep determination to spend his entire existence following Kenpachi-taicho, word got around to his beloved captain that he was deliberately refusing a position of power in order to remain subordinate. I don't know everything that happened, although the rumors are thick and varied; I just know that the day I saw Ikka-kun storming away from the First with a white haori slung over his shoulder and muttering something along the lines of: "...pathetic puppy-dog, my ass...I'll show you who'll be begging at who's heels..." is a day I will always treasure. Since then, the Fifth has been mercilessly trained into fighting machines, and the ego-inspired brawls between them and Eleventh have become legendary and expensive, all but driving Unohana-taicho to distraction. I won't even tell you about the numerous duels that Ikkaku-taicho has called Kenpachi-taicho into, nor how often Ikkaku loses, but suffice to say that even banned as they are to fighting in the most distant and desolate quarters their battles still shake the earth and even Kenpachi-san is starting to get bored with them.

The smoothest transition by far was in Ninth division. Although he had to go through a more stringent testing process than usual, to ensure he had not experienced similar tainting by his former superior as Hinamori Momo did, Hisagi Shuuhei was a strong sucessor and well-liked among shinigami, not to mention nearly revered by his own squad. I still think he tries too hard to honor the ideals Tousen so blindly (pardon the phrase) adhered to, but it is not really my place to say. He is a capable leader, a popular captain, and has proven himself to be an incredible asset in the rebuilding of the squads after the war.

The loss of Komamura was great and he was deeply mourned throughout Sereitei, no less by my own Toushirou. It is my understanding that Komamura was a great leader and inspiration to Toshi when he was climbing the ranks through the squads. The Seventh squad was a little unsettled to receive brazen Abarai Renji as their new captain, but after a rocky start they seemed to settle into each other. He's young yet, but slowly getting his feet under him, and his future as a leader looks promising. The greatest challenges that still face him will be matters of the heart; he must learn to emerge from the shadow of his former captain, and some day he'll to stop pining after the woman he loves, whose heart belongs to another. After all, if I can do it anyone can, and the many nights I've sat with him and encouraged him have helped forge a deep friendship and affection between us. He's going to be an exemplary leader one day.

The Thirteenth has also had its fair share of troubles; while Ukitake thankfully still lives, he rarely ever leaves Fourth squad anymore, leaving his duties to fall to an extremely capable Kuchiki Rukia who finally received the promotion she has deserved for decades. She was somewhat reluctant at first to accept the vice captaincy, since her heart was elsewhere and she preferred to be free to visit the real world as often as possible. However, once I pointed out the pride in her brother's eyes, there was no question as to whether or not she would accept her duty. And of course, Ukitake is about as sympathetic a leader as one could possibly have, and while her free time is limited she is unfettered as to where to spend it. Though she only recently released her bankai and is decidedly attached to a human, once Ukitake does finally fade there is no question as to whom that squad will fall.

* * *

_As for me..._

Well, things have changed there, too. I have finally settled within myself exactly who I am. With you gone, it was actually pretty easy to figure out. Toushirou has been an incalculable asset, somehow managing to help me find my true self without moulding or influencing me the way you used to. For the first time ever, I have found myself fully and truly loved, and it took me a very long time to get used to it.

In fact, a lot of things with us took a great deal of time. Despite our feelings, Toshi was adamant about not publicly displaying a romantic relationship. It hurt at first, but when I realized that his shyness was more in protection of my already-tainted reputation and less about being afraid to be seen with me, it helped a great deal. On top of that, he was even more reserved on the physical front; he absolutely refused to consummate anything until he was taller than me, which took considerably longer than either of us would have liked. In the end, though, it worked out for the best. After all, I'd spent most of my life afraid that nothing would be able to eclipse the stolen month you and I spent together in our youth; as it turns out, nearly a decade of foreplay with Toushirou did the trick _VERY _nicely.

Only one thing remains before we can make our relationship public. Which brings us to why I felt the need to speak with you today.

The fate of the Third squad. _It still does not have a captain_.

Although an incredibly capable fukutaicho was assigned and has run the squad admirably in the interim, the commanding seat remains unfulfilled. Frankly, I've avoided them for as long as I can. But the fact remains that all capable of bankai must step up, and that is one seat that can go to no one but me unless I officially refuse it.

After all, there are three ways to receive a captaincy: gain the recommendation of a majority of standing captains, pass a test of skill and bankai before all captains as well as the captain commander...

..._or kill the previous captain._

Now, clearly, in light of your betrayal your captaincy is certainly debatable. It's a techincality, really, but Nanao-chan has always maintained that it would hold up in Court. I didn't believe her for a long time, but as year after year passed without Yamamoto-sutaicho assigning someone to the position, I started to wonder. He never offered it to me, but I never actually refused it either, and I've slowly come to realize that he was respectfully leaving the decision to me.

I'll be honest and admit that I'm scared out of my wits and it is awfully hard to believe that I would be up to the task. But I have an excellent example in my Toushirou, and his quiet patience has subtly encouraged me, finally, to accept my duty.

* * *

_So, dear Gin, this truly is good-bye._

I'm not going to fill your place, I'm going to claim it as my own. From here on out, I will be living my life by my own choices and no one else's. In a few brief moments, Toushirou and I will be meeting with Yamamoto-dono and I will officially petition for the position that I have rightfully won.

I'm stepping forward into my life, on my own terms. And this time, I won't be following behind the man I love.

_I'll be standing right next to him_.

I hope you found peace, or rest, or whatever it is you were looking for, wherever you are now. I hope that, if you are able to see me, you would find joy in who I've become. There are many things you did that were wrong, but I will always be grateful to you for playing a part in the woman I've become.

_And know always, no matter what was or is_..._that you_ were _loved_.

I have to go now. I have a long-overdue meeting with Yamamoto-sutaicho.

_It's time, and Toushirou is waiting for me_.


End file.
